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A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 


Books  by  Rudyard  Kipling 

Actions  and  Reactions 

Life's     Handicap:     Being 

Brushwood  Boy,  The 

Stories    of   Mine    Own 

Captains  Courageous 

People 

Collected  Verse 

Many  Inventions 

Day's  Work,  The 

Naulahka,  The  (With  Wol- 

Departmental  Ditties  and 

cott  Balestier) 

Ballads   and    Barrack- 

Plain  Tales  from  the  Hills 

Room  Ballads 

Puck  of  Pook's  Hill 

Diversity  of  Creatures,  A 

Rewards  and  Fairies 

Five  Nations,  The 

Sea  Warfare 

France  at  War 

Seven  Seas,  The 

From  Sea  to  Sea 

Soldier  Stories 

History  of  England,  A 

Soldiers  Three,  The  Story 

Jungle  Book,  The 

of  the  Gadsbys,  and  In 

Jungle  Book,  Second 

Black  and  White 

Just  So  Song  Book 

Song  of  the  English,  A 

Just  So  Stories 

Songs  From  Books 

Kim 

Stalky  &  Co. 

Kipling  Stories  and  Poems 

They 

Every     Child      Should 

Traffics  and  Discoveries 

Know 

Under  the  Deodars,  The 

Kipling    Birthday    Book, 

Phantom*Rickshaw,and 

The 

Wee  Willie  Winkie 

Light  That  Failed,  The 

With  the  Night  Mail 

r^ 


A  Diversity  of 
Creatures 

By  Rudyard  Kipling 


»  J  i  I  /  i  'j  j  J  i  i  J    1 J 1  »j>-.i  \\  1 1  ^^ 


Garden  City  New  York 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1917 


Copyright,  igio,  igiiy  1912, 1913,  IQ14, 191S,  IQIT*  h 
RuDYARD   Kipling 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  language Sy 

including  the  Scandinavian 


PREFACE 

With  two  exceptions,  the  dates  at  the  head  of  these  stories 
show  when  they  were  published  in  magazine  form.  *The 
Village  that  Voted  the  Earth  was  Flat/  and  *My  Son's 
Wife'  carry  the  dates  when  they  were  written. 

RUDYARD  KIPLING. 


V  c 


,0^ 


i^^ 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


AsEasyasA.B.C 3 

MacDonough's  Song 45 

Friendly  Brook         47 

The  Land 65 

In  the  Same  Boat 71 

'Helen  all  Alone' 104 

The  Honours  of  War .  107 

The  Children 131 

TheDogHervey 133 

The  Comforters 160 

The  Village  that  Voted  the  Earth  was  Flat     ....  163 

The  Press         216 

In  the  Presence         219 

Johson's  Amen 239 

Regulus 241 

A  Translation 273 

The  Edge  of  the  Evening 275 

Rebirth 300 

The  Horse  Marines 3^3 

The  Legend  of  Mirth 33° 


vu 


A\  \Q.  i 


viii         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

PAGE 

'My  Son's  Wife' 335 

The  Floods 379 

The  Fabulists 381 

The  Vortex 383 

The  Song  of  Seven  Cities .      .405 

'Swept  and  Garnished' 409 

MaryPostgate 421 

The  Beginnings 443 


A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 


As  Easy  as  A.B.C* 

(1912) 

The  A.B.C.y  that  semi-elected,  semi-nominated  body 
of  a  few  score  persons,  controls  the  Planet.  Transpor- 
tation is  Civilisation,  our  motto  runs.  Theoretically 
we  do  what  we  please,  so  long  as  we  do  not  interfere  with 
the  traffic  and  all  it  implies.  Practically,  the  A. B.C. 
confirms  or  annuls  all  international  arrangements,  and, 
to  judge  from  its  last  report,  finds  our  tolerant,  humorous, 
lazy  little  Planet  only  too  ready  to  shift  the  whole  burden 
of  public  administration  on  its  shoulders. 

'With  the  Night  Mail/  ^ 

Isn't  it  almost  time  that  our  Planet  took  some  in- 
terest in  the  proceedings  of  the  Aerial  Board  of  Con- 
trol? One  knows  that  easy  communications  nowadays, 
and  lack  of  privacy  in  the  past,  have  killed  all  curiosity 
among  mankind,  but  as  the  Board's  Official  Reporter 
I  am  bound  to  tell  my  tale. 

At  9.30  A.M.,  August  26,  A.D.  2065,  the  Board, 
sitting  in  London,  was  informed  by  De  Forest  that 
the  District  of  Northern  Illinois  had  riotously  cut  it- 
self out  of  all  systems  and  would  remain  disconnected 
till  the  Board  should  take  over  and  administer  it  direct. 

*  Actions  and  Reactions. 


4  A  PIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Every  Northern  Illinois  freight  and  passenger  tower 
was,  he  reported,  out  of  action;  all  District  main,  local, 
and  guiding  lights  had  been  extinguished;  all  General 
Communications  were  dumb,  and  through  traffic  had 
been  diverted.  No  reason  had  been  given,  but  he 
gathered  unofficially  from  the  Mayor  of  Chicago  that 
the  District  complained  of  'crowd-making  and  in- 
vasion of  privacy.' 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  of  no  importance  whether 
Northern  Illinois  stay  in  or  out  of  planetary  circuit; 
as  a  matter  of  policy,  any  complaint  of  invasion  of 
privacy  needs  immediate  investigation,  lest  worse 
follow. 

By  9.45  A.M.  De  Forest,  Dragomiroff  (Russia), 
Takahira  (Japan),  and  Pirolo  (Italy)  were  empowered 
to  visit  Illinois  and  *to  take  such  steps  as  might  be 
necessary  for  the  resumption  of  traffic  and  all  that  that 
implies'  By  10  a.m.  the  Hall  was  empty,  and  the 
four  Members  and  I  were  aboard  what  Pirolo  insisted 
on  calling  *my  leetle  godchild' — that  is  to  say,  the  new 
Victor  Pirolo.  Our  Planet  prefers  to  know  Victor 
Pirolo  as  a  gentle,  grey-haired  enthusiast  who  spends 
his  time  near  Foggia,  inventing  or  creating  new  breeds 
of  Spanish-Italian  olive-trees;  but  there  is  another 
side  to  his  nature — the  manufacture  of  quaint  inven- 
tions, of  which  the  Victor  Pirolo  is,  perhaps,  not  the  least 
surprising.  She  and  a  few  score  sister-craft  of  the 
same  type  embody  his  latest  ideas.  But  she  is  not 
comfortable.  An  A. B.C.  boat  does  not  take  the  air 
with  the  level-keeled   lift  of  a  liner,   but  shoots   up 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  5 

rocket-fashion  like  the  'aeroplane'  of  our  ancestors, 
and  makes  her  height  at  top-speed  from  the  first. 
That  is  why  I  found  myself  sitting  suddenly  on  the 
large  lap  of  Eustace  Arnott,  who  commands  the  A. B.C. 
Fleet.  One  knows  vaguely  that  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  a  Fleet  somewhere  on  the  Planet,  and  that,  theoreti- 
cally, it  exists  for  the  purposes  of  what  used  to  be 
known  as  *war.'  Only  a  week  before,  while  visiting  a 
glacier  sanatorium  behind  Gothaven,  I  had  seen  some 
squadrons  making  false  auroras  far  to  the  north  while 
they  manoeuvred  round  the  Pole;  but,  naturally,  it 
had  never  occurred  to  me  that  the  things  could  be  used 
in  earnest. 

Said  Arnott  to  De  Forest  as  I  staggered  to  a  seat 
on  the  chart-room  divan:  'We're  tremendously  grate- 
ful to  'em  in  IlHnois.  We've  never  had  a  chance  of 
exercising  all  the  Fleet  together.  I've  turned  in  a 
General  Call,  and  I  expect  we'll  have  at  least  two  hun- 
dred keels  aloft  this  evening.' 

'Well  aloft?'  De  Forest  asked. 

*0f  course,  sir.     Out  of  sight  till  they're  called  for.' 

Arnott  laughed  as  he  lolled  over  the  transparent 
chart-table  where  the  map  of  the  summer-blue  Atlantic 
slid  along,  degree  by  degree,  in  exact  answer  to  our 
progress.  Our  dial  already  showed  320  m.p.h.  and 
we  were  two  thousand  feet  above  the  uppermost  traffic 
Hnes. 

'Now,  where  is  this  Illinois  District  of  yours?'  said 
Dragomiroff.  'One  travels  so  much,  one  sees  so  little. 
Oh,  I  remember!     It  is  in  North  America.' 


6  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

De  Forest,  whose  business  it  is  to  know  the  out  dis- 
tricts, told  us  that  it  lay  at  the  foot  of  Lake  Michigan, 
on  a  road  to  nowhere  in  particular,  was  about  half  an 
hour's  run  from  end  to  end,  and,  except  in  one  corner, 
as  flat  as  the  sea.  Like  most  flat  countries  nowadays, 
it  was  heavily  guarded  against  invasion  of  privacy  by 
forced  timber — fifty-foot  spruce  and  tamarack,  grown 
in  five  years.  The  population  was  close  on  two  millions, 
largely  migratory  between  Florida  and  California,  with 
a  backbone  of  small  farms  (they  call  a  thousand  acres 
a  farm  in  Illinois)  whose  owners  come  into  Chicago  for 
amusements  and  society  during  the  winter.  They 
were,  he  said,  noticeably  kind,  quiet  folk,  but  a  little 
exacting,  as  all  flat  countries  must  be,  in  their  notions 
of  privacy.  There  had,  for  instance,  been  no  printed 
news-sheet  in  Illinois  for  twenty-seven  years.  Chicago 
argued  that  engines  for  printed  news  sooner  or  later 
developed  into  engines  for  invasion  of  privacy,  which 
in  turn  might  bring  the  old  terror  of  Crowds  and 
blackmail  back  to  the  Planet.  So  news-sheets  were 
not. 

'And  that's  Illinois,'  De  Forest  concluded.  *You 
see,  in  the  Old  Days,  she  was  in  the  forefront  of  what 
they  used  to  call  "progress,"  and  Chicago ' 

'Chicago?'  said  Takahira.  'That's  the  little  place 
where  there  is  Salati's  Statue  of  the  Nigger  in  Flames? 
A  fine  bit  of  old  work.' 

'When  did  you  see  it?'  asked  De  Forest  quickly. 
'They  only  unveil  it  once  a  year.* 

'I    know.     At   Thanksgiving.     It   was    then,'    said 


AS  EASY  AS  A.  B.C.  7 

Takahira,  with  a  shudder.  *And  they  sang  Mac- 
Donough's  Song,  too.* 

'WhewT  De  Forest  whistled.  'I  did  not  know  that! 
I  wish  you'd  told  me  before.  MacDonough's  Song 
may  have  had  its  uses  when  it  was  composed,  but  it 
was  an  infernal  legacy  for  any  man  to  leave  behind.' 

*It's  protective  instinct,  my  dear  fellows,'  said 
Pirolo,  rolling  a  cigarette.  *The  Planet,  she  has  had 
her  dose  of  popular  government.  She  suffers  from 
inherited  agoraphobia.  She  has  no — ah — use  for 
Crowds.' 

DragomirofF  leaned  forward  to  give  him  a  light. 
'Certainly,'  said  the  white-bearded  Russian,  *the 
Planet  has  taken  all  precautions  against  Crowds  for 
the  past  hundred  years.  What  is  our  total  population 
to-day?  Six  hundred  million,  we  hope;  five  hundred, 
we  think;  but — but  if  next  year's  census  shows  more 
than  four  hundred  and  fifty,  I  myself  will  eat  all  the 
extra  little  babies.  We  have  cut  the  birth-rate  out — 
right  out!  For  a  long  time  we  have  said  to  Almighty 
God,  "Thank  You,  Sir,  but  we  do  not  much  like  Your 
game  of  life,  so  we  will  not  play." ' 

*  Anyhow,'  said  Arnott  defiantly,  'men  live  a  cen- 
tury apiece  on  the  average  now.' 

*0h,  that  is  quite  well!  I  am  rich — you  are  rich — • 
we  are  all  rich  and  happy  because  we  are  so  few  and 
we  live  so  long.  Only  /  think  Almighty  God  He  will 
remember  what  the  Planet  was  like  in  the  time  of 
Crowds  and  the  Plague.  Perhaps  He  will  send  us 
nerves.     Eh,  Pirolo?' 


8  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

The  Italian  blinked  into  space.  *  Perhaps/  he  said, 
*He  has  sent  them  already.  Anyhow,  you  cannot 
argue  with  the  Planet.  She  does  not  forget  the  Old 
Days,  and — ^what  can  you  do?' 

'For  sure  we  can't  remake  the  world.'  De  Forest 
glanced  at  the  map  flowing  smoothly  across  the  table 
from  west  to  east.  *  We  ought  to  be  over  our  ground  by 
nine  to-night.     There  won't  be  much  sleep  afterwards.' 

On  which  hint  we  dispersed,  and  I  slept  till  Takahira 
waked  me  for  dinner.  Our  ancestors  thought  nine 
hours'  sleep  ample  for  their  little  lives.  We,  living 
thirty  years  longer,  feel  ourselves  defrauded  with  less 
than  eleven  out  of  the  twenty-four. 

By  ten  o'clock  we  were  over  Lake  Michigan.  The 
west  shore  was  lightless,  except  for  a  dull  ground-glare 
at  Chicago,  and  a  single  traffic-directing  light — ^its 
leading  beam  pointing  north — at  Waukegan  on  our 
starboard  bow.  None  of  the  Lake  villages  gave  any 
sign  of  life;  and  inland,  westward,  so  far  as  we  could 
see,  blackness  lay  unbroken  on  the  level  earth.  We 
swooped  down  and  skimmed  low  across  the  dark, 
throwing  calls  county  by  county.  Now  and  again  we 
picked  up  the  faint  glimmer  of  a  house-light,  or  heard 
the  rasp  and  rend  of  a  cultivator  being  played  across 
the  fields,  but  Northern  Illinois  as  a  whole  was  one 
inky,  apparently  uninhabited,  waste  of  high,  forced 
woods.  Only  our  illuminated  map,  with  its  little 
pointer  switching  from  county  to  county  as  we 
wheeled  and  twisted,  gave  us  any  idea  of  our  position. 
Our  calls,  urgent,  pleading,  coaxing  or  commanding. 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  9 

through  the  General  Communicator  brought  no  answer. 
Illinois  strictly  maintained  her  own  privacy  in  the 
timber  which  she  grew  for  that  purpose. 

*0h,  this  is  absurd!'  said  De  Forest.  'We're  Hke 
an  owl  trying  to  work  a  wheat-field.  Is  this  Bureau 
Creek?     Let's  land,  Arnott,  and  get  hold  of  some  one.' 

We  brushed  over  a  belt  of  forced  woodland — fifteen- 
year-old  maple  sixty  feet  high — grounded  on  a  private 
meadow-dock,  none  too  big,  where  we  moored  to  our 
own  grapnels,  and  hurried  out  through  the  warm  dark 
night  towards  a  Hght  in  a  verandah.  As  we  neared  the 
garden  gate  I  could  have  sworn  we  had  stepped  knee- 
deep  in  quicksand,  for  we  could  scarcely  drag  our  feet 
against  the  prickling  currents  that  clogged  them. 
After  five  paces  we  stopped,  wiping  our  foreheads, 
as  hopelessly  stuck  on  dry  smooth  turf  as  so  many 
cows  in  a  bog. 

*Pest!'  cried  Pirolo  angrily.  *We  are  ground- 
circuited.  And  it  is  my  own  system  of  ground-circuits 
too!     I  know  the  pull.' 

'Good  evening,'  said  a  girl's  voice  from  the  verandah. 
*0h,  I'm  sorry!     We've  locked  up.     Wait  a  minute.' 

We  heard  the  click  of  a  switch,  and  almost  fell 
forward  as  the  currents  round  our  knees  were  with- 
drawn. 

The  girl  laughed,  and  laid  aside  her  knitting.  An 
old-fashioned  Controller  stood  at  her  elbow,  which 
she  reversed  from  time  to  time,  and  we  could  hear  the 
snort  and  clank  of  the  obedient  cultivator  half  a  mile 
away,  behind  the  guardian  woods. 


lo  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Come  in  and  sit  down/  she  said.  'Vm  only  playing 
a  plough.  Dad's  gone  to  Chicago  to — ^Ah!  Then  it 
was  your  call  I  heard  just  now!' 

She  had  caught  sight  of  Arnott's  Board  uniform, 
leaped  to  the  switch,  and  turned  it  full  on. 

We  were  checked,  gasping,  waist-deep  in  current 
this  time,  three  yards  from  the  verandah. 

*We  only  want  to  know  what's  the  matter  with 
Illinois,'  said  De  Forest  placidly. 

*Then  hadn't  you  better  go  to  Chicago  and  find 
out?'  she  answered.  'There's  nothing  wrong  here. 
We  own  ourselves.' 

'How  can  we  go  anywhere  if  you  won't  loose  us.?' 
De  Forest  went  on,  while  Arnott  scowled.  Admirals 
of  Fleets  are  still  quite  human  when  their  dignity  is 
touched. 

'Stop  a  minute — you  don't  know  how  funny  you 
look!'  She  put  her  hands  on  her  hips  and  laughed 
mercilessly. 

'Don't  worry  about  that,'  said  Arnott,  and  whistled. 
A  voice  answered  from  the  Victor  Pirolo  in  the  meadow. 

'Only  a  single-fuse  ground-circuit!'  Arnott  called. 
'Sort  it  out  gently,  please.' 

We  heard  the  ping  of  a  breaking  lamp;  a  fuse  blew 
out  somewhere  in  the  verandah  roof,  frightening  a 
nestful  of  birds.  The  ground-circuit  was  open.  We 
stooped  and  rubbed  our  tinghng  ankles. 

'How  rude — how  very  rude  of  you!'  the  maiden  cried. 

'  'Sorry,  but  we  haven't  time  to  look  funny,'  said 
Arnott.     'We've  got  to  go  to  Chicago;  and  if  I  were 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  ii 

you,  young  lady,  Fd  go  into  the  cellars  for  the  next 
two  hours,  and  take  mother  with  me.' 

Off  he  strode,  with  us  at  his  heels,  muttering  in- 
dignantly, till  the  humour  of  the  thing  struck  and 
doubled  him  up  with  laughter  at  the  foot  of  the  gang- 
way ladder. 

'The  Board  hasn't  shown  what  you  might  call  a 
fat  spark  on  this  occasion,'  said  De  Forest,  wiping  his 
eyes.  *I  hope  I  didn't  look  as  big  a  fool  as  you  did, 
Arnott!  Hullo!  What  on  earth  is  that .^  Dad  coming 
home  from  Chicago?' 

There  was  a  rattle  and  a  rush,  and  a  five-plough  culti- 
vator, blades  in  air  like  so  many  teeth,  trundled  itself 
at  us  round  the  edge  of  the  timber,  fuming  and  sparking 
furiously. 

'Jump!'  said  Arnott,  as  we  bundled  ourselves 
through  the  none-too-wide  door.  'Never  mind  about 
shutting  it.     Up ! ' 

The  Victor  Pirolo  Hfted  like  a  bubble,  and  the  vicious 
machine  shot  just  underneath  us,  clawing  high  as  it 
passed. 

'There's  a  nice  little  spit-kitten  for  you!'  said  Arnott, 
dusting  his  knees.  'We  ask  her  a  civil  question.  First 
she  circuits  us  and  then  she  plays  a  cultivator  at  us!' 

'And  then  we  fly,'  said  DragomirolF.  'If  I  were 
forty  years  more  young,  I  would  go  back  and  kiss  her. 
Ho!     Ho!' 

*I,'  said  Pirolo,  *  would  smack  her!  My  pet  ship 
has  been  chased  by  a  dirty  plough;  a — how  do  you  say? 
— agricultural  implement.' 


12  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*0h,  that  is  Illinois  all  over/  said  De  Forest.  'They 
don't  content  themselves  with  talking  about  privacy. 
They  arrange  to  have  it.  And  now,  where's  your 
alleged  fleet,  Arnott .?  We  must  assert  ourselves  against 
this  wench.' 

Arnott  pointed  to  the  black  heavens. 

'Waiting  on — up  there,'  said  he.  'Shall  I  give  them 
the  whole  installation,  sir.?' 

'Oh,  I  don't  think  the  young  lady  is  quite  worth 
that,'  said  De  Forest.  'Get  over  Chicago,  and  per- 
haps we'll  see  something.' 

In  a  few  minutes  we  were  hanging  at  two  thousand 
feet  over  an  oblong  block  of  incandescence  in  the  centre 
of  the  Httle  town. 

'That  looks  like  the  old  City  Hall.  Yes,  there's 
Salati's  Statue  in  front  of  it,'  said  Takahira.  'But 
what  on  earth  are  they  doing  to  the  place.?  I  thought 
they  used  it  for  a  market  nowadays!  Drop  a  little, 
please.' 

We  could  hear  the  sputter  and  crackle  of  road- 
surfacing  machines — the  cheap  Western  type  which 
fuse  stone  and  rubbish  into  lava-like  ribbed  glass  for 
their  rough  country  roads.  Three  or  four  surfacers 
worked  on  each  side  of  a  square  of  ruins.  The  brick 
and  stone  wreckage  crumbled,  slid  forward,  and  pres- 
ently spread  out  into  white-hot  pools  of  sticky  slag, 
which  the  levelling-rods  smoothed  more  or  less  flat. 
Already  a  third  of  the  big  block  had  been  so  treated, 
and  was  cooling  to  dull  red  before  our  astonished  eyes. 

'It   is   the  Old   Market,'   said    De   Forest.     'Well, 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  13 

there's  nothing  to  prevent  lUinois  from  making  a 
road  through  a  market.  It  doesn't  interfere  with 
traffic,  that  I  can  see.' 

*Hsh!'  said  Arnott,  gripping  me  by  the  shoulder. 
*  Listen!  They're  singing.  Why  on  the  earth  are 
they  singing?' 

We  dropped  again  till  we  could  see  the  black  fringe 
of  people  at  the  edge  of  that  glowing  square. 

At  first  they  only  roared  against  the  roar  of  the 
surfacers  and  levellers.  Then  the  words  came  up 
clearly — the  words  of  the  Forbidden  Song  that  all 
men  knew,  and  none  let  pass  their  lips — poor  Pat 
MacDonough's  Song,  made  in  the  days  of  the  Crowds 
and  the  Plague — every  silly  word  of  it  loaded  to  spark- 
ing-point  with  the  Planet's  inherited  memories  of 
horror,  panic,  fear  and  cruelty.  And  Chicago — 
innocent,  contented  little  Chicago — ^was  singing  it 
aloud  to  the  infernal  tune  that  carried  riot,  pestilence 
and  lunacy  round  our  Planet  a  few  generations  ago! 

*Once  there  was  The  People — ^Terror  gave  it  birth; 
Once  there  was  The  People,  and  it  made  a  hell  of  earth!* 

(Then  the  stamp  and  pause) : 

*  Earth  arose  and  crushed  it.     Listen,  oh,  ye  slain! 
Once  there  was  The  People — it  shall  never  be  again!* 

The  levellers  thrust  in  savagely  against  the  ruins 
as  the  song  renewed  itself  again,  again  and  again, 
louder  than  the  crash  of  the  melting  walls. 


14  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

De  Forest  frowned. 

*I  don't  like  that/  he  said.  *TheyVe  broken  back 
to  the  Old  Days!  They'll  be  killing  somebody  soon. 
I  think  we'd  better  divert  'em,  Arnott.' 

*Ay,  ay,  sir.'  Arnott's  hand  went  to  his  cap,  and 
we  heard  the  hull  of  the  Victor  Pirolo  ring  to  the  com- 
mand: 'Lamps!  Both  watches  stand  by!  Lamps! 
Lamps!    Lamps!' 

'Keep  still!'  Takahira  whispered  to  me.  'Blinkers, 
please,  quartermaster.' 

'It's  all  right — all  right!'  said  Pirolo  from  behind, 
and  to  my  horror  slipped  over  my  head  some  sort  of 
rubber  helmet  that  locked  with  a  snap.  I  could  feel 
thick  colloid  bosses  before  my  eyes,  but  I  stood  in 
absolute  darkness. 

'To  save  the  sight,'  he  explained,  and  pushed  me 
on  to  the  chart-room  divan.     'You  will  see  in  a  min- 


ute.' 


As  he  spoke  I  became  aware  of  a  thin  thread  of 
almost  intolerable  light,  let  down  from  heaven  at  an 
immense  distance — one  vertical  hairsbreadth  of  frozen 
lightning. 

'Those  are  our  flanking  ships,'  said  Arnott  at  my 
elbow.  'That  one  is  over  Galena.  Look  south — 
that  other  one's  over  Keithburg.  Vincennes  is  behind 
us,  and  north  yonder  is  Winthrop  Woods.  The 
Fleet's  in  position,  sir' — this  to  De  Forest.  'As  soon 
as  you  give  the  word.' 

'Ah  no!  No!'  cried  DragomirofF  at  my  side.  I 
could   feel  the  old    man   tremble.     'I   do   not   know 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  15 

all  that  you  can  do,  but  be  kind!     I  ask  you  to  be  a 
little  kind  to  them  below!    This  is  horrible — horrible!' 


*When  a  Woman  kills  a  Chicken, 
Dynasties  and  Empires  sicken,' 

Takahira  quoted.     *It  is  too  late  to  be  gentle  now/ 

*Then  take  ofF  my  helmet!  Take  ofF  my  helmet!* 
Dragomiroff  began  hysterically. 

Pirolo  must  have  put  his  arm  round  him. 

'Hush/  he  said,  *I  am  here.  It  is  all  right,  Ivan, 
my  dear  fellow.' 

*ril  just  send  our  little  girl  in  Bureau  County  a 
warning,'  said  Arnott.  *  She  don't  deserve  it,  but  we'll 
allow  her  a  minute  or  two  to  take  mamma  to  the  cellar.' 

In  the  utter  hush  that  followed  the  growling  spark 
after  Arnott  had  linked  up  his  Service  Communicator 
with  the  invisible  Fleet,  we  heard  MacDonough's 
Song  from  the  city  beneath  us  grow  fainter  as  we  rose 
to  position.  Then  I  clapped  my  hand  before  my 
mask  lenses,  for  it  was  as  though  the  floor  of  Heaven 
had  been  riddled  and  all  the  inconceivable  blaze  of 
suns  in  the  making  was  poured  through  the  manholes. 

*You  needn't  count,'  said  Arnott.  I  had  had  no 
thought  of  such  a  thing.  'There  are  two  hundred  and 
fifty  keels  up  there,  five  miles  apart.  Full  power, 
please,  for  another  twelve  seconds.' 

The  firmament,  as  far  as  eye  could  reach,  stood  on 
pillars  of  white  fire.  One  fell  on  the  glowing  square 
at  Chicago,  and  turned  it  black. 


i6  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*0h!  Oh!  Oh!  Can  men  be  allowed  to  do  such 
things  ? '  DragomirofF  cried,  and  fell  across  our  knees. 

*  Glass  of  water,  please,'  said  Takahira  to  a  helmeted 
shape  that  leaped  forward.     *He  is  a  Uttle  faint.' 

The  lights  switched  off,  and  the  darkness  stunned 
like  an  avalanche.  We  could  hear  DragomirofF's  teeth 
on  the  glass  edge. 

Pirolo  was  comforting  him. 

*A11  right,  all  ra-ight,'  he  repeated.  *Come  and  lie 
down.  Come  below  and  take  off  your  mask.  I  give 
you  my  word,  old  friend,  it  is  all  right.  They  are  my 
siege-lights.  Little  Victor  Pirolo's  leetle  lights.  You 
know  me  !    I  do  not  hurt  people.' 

*  Pardon!'  DragomirofF  moaned.  *I  have  never  seen 
Death.  I  have  never  seen  the  Board  take  action. 
Shall  we  go  down  and  burn  them  alive,  or  is  that  already 
done  ? ' 

'Oh,  hush,'  said  Pirolo,  and  I  think  he  rocked  him 
in  his  arms. 

*Do  we  repeat,  sir.?'  Arnott  asked  De  Forest. 

*Give  'em  a  minute's  break,'  De  Forest  replied. 
'They  may  need  it.' 

We  waited  a  minute,  and  then  MacDonough's  Song, 
broken  but  defiant,  rose  from  undefeated  Chicago. 

*They  seem  fond  of  that  tune,'  said  De  Forest.  *I 
should  let  'em  have  it,  Arnott.' 

'Very  good,  sir,'  said  Arnott,  and  felt  his  way  to  the 
Communicator  keys. 

No  lights  broke  forth,  but  the  hollow  of  the  skies 
made  herself  the  mouth  for  one  note  that  touched  the 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  17 

raw  fibre  of  the  brain.  Men  hear  such  sounds  in  de- 
lirium, advancing  Hke  tides  from  horizons  beyond  the 
ruled  foreshores  of  space. 

'That's  our  pitch-pipe/  said  Arnott.  *We  may  be  a 
bit  ragged.  Fve  never  conducted  two  hundred  and 
fifty  performers  before.'  He  pulled  out  the  couplers, 
and  struck  a  full  chord  on  the  Service  Communicators. 

The  beams  of  Hght  leaped  down  again,  and  danced, 
solemnly  and  awfully,  a  stilt-dance,  sweeping  thirty 
or  forty  miles  left  and  right  at  each  stifF-legged  kick, 
while  the  darkness  delivered  itself — there  is  no  scale  to 
measure  against  that  utterance — of  the  tune  to  which 
they  kept  time.  Certain  notes — one  learnt  to  expect 
them  with  terror — cut  through  one's  marrow,  but,  after 
three  minutes,  thought  and  emotion  passed  in  inde- 
scribable agony. 

We  saw,  we  heard,  but  I  think  we  were  in  some  sort 
spooning.  The  two  hundred  and  fifty  beams  shifted, 
re-formed,  straddled  and  split,  narrowed,  widened, 
rippled  in  ribbons,  broke  into  a  thousand  white-hot 
parallel  lines,  melted  and  revolved  in  interwoven 
rings  like  old-fashioned  engine-turning,  flung  up  to  the 
zenith,  made  as  if  to  descend  and  renew  the  torment, 
halted  at  the  last  instant,  twizzled  insanely  round  the 
horizon,  and  vanished,  to  bring  back  for  the  hundredth 
time  darkness  more  shattering  than  their  instantly 
renewed  light  over  all  Illinois.  Then  the  tune  and 
lights  ceased  together,  and  we  heard  one  single  devas- 
tating wail  that  shook  all  the  horizon  as  a  rubbed  wet 
finger  shakes  the  rim  of  a  bowl. 


i8  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Ah,  that  is  my  new  siren/  said  Pirolo.  *You  can 
break  an  iceberg  in  half,  if  you  find  the  proper  pitch. 
They  will  whistle  by  squadrons  now.  It  is  the  wind 
through  pierced  shutters  in  the  bows.' 

I  had  collapsed  beside  DragomirofF,  broken  and 
snivelling  feebly,  because  I  had  been  delivered  before 
my  time  to  all  the  terrors  of  Judgment  Day,  and  the 
Archangels  of  the  Resurrection  were  hailing  me  naked 
across  the  Universe  to  the  sound  of  the  music  of  the 
spheres. 

Then  I  saw  De  Forest  smacking  Arnott's  helmet 
with  his  open  hand.  The  wailing  died  down  in  a  long 
shriek  as  a  black  shadow  swooped  past  us,  and  returned 
to  her  place  above  the  lower  clouds. 

*I  hate  to  interrupt  a  specialist  when  he's  enjoying 
himself,'  said  De  Forest.  *But,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
all  Illinois  has  been  asking  us  to  stop  for  these  last 
fifteen  seconds.' 

*What  a  pity.'  Arnott  slipped  ofF  his  mask.  'I 
wanted  you  to  hear  us  really  hum.  Our  lower  C  can 
lift  street-paving.' 

*  It  is  Hell — Hell ! '  cried  DragomirofF,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

Arnott  looked  away  as  he  answered : 

'It's  a  few  thousand  volts  ahead  of  the  old  shoot- 
'em-and-sink-'em  game,  but  I  should  scarcely  call  it 
that.     What  shall  I  tell  the  Fleet,  sir?' 

*Tell  'em  we're  very  pleased  and  impressed.  I  don't 
think  they  need  wait  on  any  longer.  There  isn't  a 
spark  left  down  there.'  De  Forest  pointed.  'They'll 
be  deaf  and  blind.' 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  19 

*0h,  I  think  not,  sir.  The  demonstration  lasted  less 
than  ten  minutes.' 

'Marvellous!*  Takahira  sighed.  *I  should  have 
said  it  was  half  a  night.  Now,  shall  we  go  down  and 
pick  up  the  pieces  I ' 

*But  first  a  small  drink,'  said  Pirolo.  *The  Board 
must  not  arrive  weeping  at  its  own  works.' 

*I  am  an  old  fool — an  old  fool!'  DragomirofF  began 
piteously.  *I  did  not  know  what  would  happen.  It 
is  all  new  to  me.  We  reason  with  them  in  Little 
Russia.' 

Chicago  North  landing-tower  was  unlighted,  and 
Arnott  worked  his  ship  into  the  clips  by  her  own  lights. 
As  soon  as  these  broke  out  we  heard  groanings  of  horror 
and  appeal  from  many  people  below. 

*A11  right,'  shouted  Arnott  into  the  darkness.  'We 
aren't  beginning  again!*  We  descended  by  the  stairs, 
to  find  ourselves  knee-deep  in  a  grovelling  crowd,  some 
crying  that  they  were  blind,  others  beseeching  us  not 
to  make  any  more  noises,  but  the  greater  part  writhing 
face  downward,  their  hands  or  their  caps  before  their 
eyes. 

It  was  Pirolo  who  came  to  our  rescue.  He  climbed 
the  side  of  a  surfacing-machine,  and  there,  gesticulating 
as  though  they  could  see,  made  oration  to  those  afflicted 
people  of  Illinois. 

*You  stchewpidsl'  he  began.  'There  is  nothing  to 
fuss  for.  Of  course,  your  eyes  will  smart  and  be  red 
to-morrow.  You  will  look  as  if  you  and  your  wives 
had  drunk  too  much,  but  in  a  little  while  you  will  see 


20  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

again  as  well  as  before.  I  tell  you  this,  and  I — I  am 
Pirolo.     Victor  Pirolo!' 

The  crowd  with  one  accord  shuddered,  for  many 
legends  attach  to  Victor  Pirolo  of  Foggia,  deep  in  the 
secrets  of  God. 

'Pirolo?'  An  unsteady  voice  Hfted  itself.  *Then 
tell  us  was  there  anything  except  light  in  those  lights 
of  yours  just  now?' 

The  question  was  repeated  from  every  corner  of  the 
darkness. 

Pirolo  laughed. 

*No!'  he  thundered.  (Why  have  small  men  such 
large  voices?)  'I  give  you  my  word  and  the  Board's 
word  that  there  was  nothing  except  Hght — ^just  light! 
You  stchewpids!  Your  birth-rate  is  too  low  already 
as  it  is.  Some  day  I  must  invent  something  to  send 
it  up,  but  send  it  down — never!' 

*Is  that  true? — We  thought — somebody  said ' 

One  could  feel  the  tension  relax  all  round. 

'You  too  big  fools,'  Pirolo  cried.  *You  could  have 
sent  us  a  call  and  we  would  have  told  you.' 

*Send  you  a  call!'  a  deep  voice  shouted.  'I  wish 
you  had  been  at  our  end  of  the  wire.' 

'I'm  glad  I  wasn't,'  said  De  Forest.  *It  was  bad 
enough  from  behind  the  lamps.  Never  mind!  It's 
over  now.  Is  there  any  one  here  I  can  talk  business 
with?     I'm  De  Forest — for  the  Board.' 

*You  might  begin  with  me,  for  one — I'm  Mayor,' 
the  bass  voice  replied. 

A  big  man  rose  unsteadily  from  the  street,  and  stag- 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  21 

gered  towards  us  where  we  sat  on  the  broad  turf- 
edging,  in  front  of  the  garden  fences. 

*I  ought  to  be  the  first  on  my  feet.     Am  I?'  said  he. 

*  Yes/  said  De  Forest,  and  steadied  him  as  he  dropped 
down  beside  us. 

'Hello,  Andy.     Is  that  you?'  a  voice  called. 

'Excuse  me,'  said  the  Mayor;  'that  sounds  like  my 
Chief  of  Police,  Bluthner!' 

'Bluthner  it  is;  and  here's  Mulligan  and  Keefe — 
on  their  feet.' 

'Bring  'em  up  please,  Blut.  We're  supposed  to  be 
the  Four  in  charge  of  this  hamlet.  What  we  says,  goes. 
And,  De  Forest,  what  do  you  say?' 

'Nothing — yet,'  De  Forest  answered,  as  we  made 
roorn  for  the  panting,  reeHng  men.  'Fow've  cut  out 
of  system.     Well?' 

'Tell  the  steward  to  send  down  drinks,  please,' 
Arnott  whispered  to  an  orderly  at  his  side. 

'Good!'  said  the  Mayor,  smacking  his  dry  lips. 
'Now  I  suppose  we  can  take  it,  De  Forest,  that  hence- 
forward the  Board  will  administer  us  direct?' 

'Not  if  the  Board  can  avoid  it,'  De  Forest  laughed. 
'The  A.B.C.  is  responsible  for  the  planetary  traffic  only.' 

^  And  all  that  that  implies  J  The  big  Four  who  ran 
Chicago  chanted  their  Magna  Charta  like  children 
at  school. 

'Well,  get  on,'  said  De  Forest  wearily.  'What  is 
your  silly  trouble  anyway?' 

'Too  much  dam'  Democracy,'  said  the  Mayor,  lay- 
ing his  hand  on  De  Forest's  knee. 


22  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*So?  I  thought  Illinois  had  had  her  dose  of 
that.' 

*She  has.  That's  why.  Blut,  what  did  you  do 
with  our  prisoners  last  night.?' 

*  Locked  'em  in  the  water-tower  to  prevent  the 
women  killing  'em,'  the  Chief  of  Police  replied.  'I'm 
too  blind  to  move  just  yet,  but ' 

'Arnott,  send  some  of  your  people,  please,  and  fetch 
'em  along,'  said  De  Forest. 

'They're  triple-circuited,'  the  Mayor  called.  'You'll 
have  to  blow  out  three  fuses.'  He  turned  to  De  Forest, 
his  large  outline  just  visible  in  the  paling  darkness. 
*I  hate  to  throw  any  more  work  on  the  Board.  I'm  an 
administrator  myself,  but  we've  had  a  little  fuss  with 
our  Serviles.  What?  In  a  big  city  there's  bound  to 
be  a  few  men  and  women  who  can't  live  without  listen- 
ing to  themselves,  and  who  prefer  drinking  out  of 
pipes  they  don't  own  both  ends  of.  They  inhabit 
flats  and  hotels  all  the  year  round.  They  say  it  saves 
'em  trouble.  Anyway,  it  gives  'em  more  time  to 
make  trouble  for  their  neighbours.  We  call  'em  Ser- 
viles locally.     And  they  are  apt  to  be  tuberculous.' 

*Just  so!'  said  the  man  called  Mulligan.  'Trans- 
portation is  Civilisation.  Democracy  is  Disease.  I've 
proved  it  by  the  blood-test,  every  time.' 

'Mulligan's  our  Health  Officer,  and  a  one-idea  man,' 
said  the  Mayor,  laughing.  'But  it's  true  that  most 
Serviles  haven't  much  control.  They  will  talk;  and 
when  people  take  to  talking  as  a  business,  anything 
may  arrive — mayn't  it,  De  Forest?' 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  23 

'Anything — except  the  facts  of  the  case,'  said  De 
Forest,  laughing. 

*ril  give  you  those  in  a  minute,'  said  the  Mayor. 
*Our  Serviles  got  to  talking — first  in  their  houses  and 
then  on  the  streets,  telling  men  and  women  how  to 
manage  their  own  affairs.  (You  can't  teach  a  Servile 
not  to  finger  his  neighbour's  soul.)  That's  invasion  of 
privacy,  of  course,  but  in  Chicago  we'll  suffer  anything 
sooner  than  make  Crowds.  Nobody  took  much  notice, 
and  so  I  let  'em  alone.  My  fault !  I  was  warned  there 
would  be  trouble,  but  there  hasn't  been  a  Crowd  or 
murder  in  Illinois  for  nineteen  years.' 

*Twenty-two,'  said  his  Chief  of  Police. 

'Likely.  Anyway,  we'd  forgot  such  things.  So, 
from  talking  in  the  houses  and  on  the  streets,  our  Ser- 
viles go  to  caUing  a  meeting  at  the  Old  Market  yonder.' 
He  nodded  across  the  square  where  the  wrecked  build- 
ings heaved  up  grey  in  the  dawn-glimmer  behind  the 
square-cased  statue  of  The  Negro  in  Flames.  'There's 
nothing  to  prevent  any  one  calling  meetings  except  that 
it's  against  human  nature  to  stand  in  a  Crowd,  besides 
being  bad  for  the  health.  I  ought  to  have  known  by 
the  way  our  men  and  women  attended  that  first  meeting 
that  trouble  was  brewing.  There  were  as  many  as  a 
thousand  in  the  market-place,  touching  each  other. 
Touching!  Then  the  Serviles  turned  in  all  tongue- 
switches  and  talked,  and  we ' 

'What  did  they  talk  about?'  said  Takahira. 

'First,  how  badly  things  were  managed  in  the  city. 
That  pleased  us  Four — we  were  on  the  platform — 


24  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

because  we  hoped  to  catch  one  or  two  good  men  for 
City  work.  You  know  how  rare  executive  capacity  is. 
Even  if  we  didn't  it's — it's  refreshing  to  find  any  one 
interested  enough  in  our  job  to  damn  our  eyes.  You 
don't  know  what  it  means  to  work,  year  in,  year  out, 
without  a  spark  of  difference  with  a  living  soul.' 

*0h,  don't  we!'  said  De  Forest.  *  There  are  times 
on  the  Board  when  we'd  give  our  positions  if  any  one 
would  kick  us  out  and  take  hold  of  things  themselves.' 

*But  they  won't,'  said  the  Mayor  ruefully.  *I 
assure  you,  sir,  we  Four  have  done  things  in  Chicago, 
in  the  hope  of  rousing  people,  that  would  have  dis- 
credited Nero.  But  what  do  they  say?  "Very  good, 
Andy.  Have  it  your  own  way.  Anything's  better 
than  a  Crowd.  I'll  go  back  to  my  land."  You  cant 
do  anything  with  folk  who  can  go  where  they  please, 
and  don't  want  anything  on  God's  earth  except  their 
own  way.  There  isn't  a  kick  or  a  kicker  left  on  the 
Planet.' 

*Then  I  suppose  that  little  shed  yonder  fell  down  by 
itself?'  said  De  Forest.  We  could  see  the  bare  and 
still  smoking  ruins,  and  hear  the  slag-pools  crackle  as 
they  hardened  and  set. 

*0h,  that's  only  amusement.  'Tell  you  later. 
As  I  was  saying,  our  Serviles  held  the  meeting,  and 
pretty  soon  we  had  to  ground-circuit  the  platform  to 
save  'em  from  being  killed.  And  that  didn't  make  our 
people  any  more  pacific' 

*How  d'you  mean?*  I  ventured  to  ask. 

*If  you've    ever    been    ground-circuited,'    said   the 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  25 

Mayor,  'you'll  know  it  don't  improve  any  man's  tem- 
per to  be  held  up  straining  against  nothing.  No,  sir! 
Eight  or  nine  hundred  folk  kept  pawing  and  buzzing 
like  flies  in  treacle  for  two  hours,  while  a  pack  of  per- 
fectly safe  Serviles  invades  their  mental  and  spiritual 
privacy,  may  be  amusing  to  watch,  but  they  are  not 
pleasant  to  handle  afterwards.' 

Pirolo  chuckled. 

'Our  folk  own  themselves.  They  were  of  opinion 
things  were  going  too  far  and  too  fiery.  I  warned  the 
Serviles;  but  they're  born  house-dwellers.  Unless  a 
fact  hits  'em  on  the  head  they  cannot  see  it.  Would 
you  believe  me,  they  went  on  to  talk  of  what  they 
called  "popular  government".?  They  did!  They 
wanted  us  to  go  back  to  the  old  Voodoo-business  of 
voting  with  papers  and  wooden  boxes,  and  word-drunk 
people  and  printed  formulas,  and  news-sheets!  They 
said  they  practised  it  among  themselves  about  what 
they'd  have  to  eat  in  their  flats  and  hotels.  Yes,  sir! 
They  stood  up  behind  Bluthner's  doubled  ground- 
circuits,  and  they  said  that,  in  this  present  year  of 
grace,  to  self-owning  men  and  women,  on  that  very  spot! 
Then  they  finished ' — he  lowered  his  voice  cautiously — 
'by  talking  about  "The  People."  And  then  Bluthner 
he  had  to  sit  up  all  night  in  charge  of  the  circuits  be- 
cause he  couldn't  trust  his  men  to  keep  'em  shut.' 

'It  was  trying  'em  too  high,'  the  Chief  of  Police 
broke  in.  'But  we  couldn't  hold  the  Crowd  ground- 
circuited  for  ever.  I  gathered  in  all  the  Serviles  on 
charge  of  Crowd-making,  and  put   'em  in  the  water- 


26  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

tower,  and  then  I  let  things  cut  loose.  I  had  to! 
The  District  lit  like  a  sparked  gas-tank!' 

*The  news  was  out  over  seven  degrees  of  country,* 
the  Mayor  continued;  *and  when  once  it's  a  question 
of  invasion  of  privacy,  good-bye  to  right  and  reason  in 
Illinois!  They  began  turning  out  traffic-lights  and 
locking  up  landing-towers  on  Thursday  night.  Friday, 
they  stopped  all  traffic  and  asked  for  the  Board  to  take 
over.  Then  they  wanted  to  clean  Chicago  off  the  side 
of  the  Lake  and  rebuild  elsewhere — ^just  for  a  souvenir 
of  "The  People"  that  the  Serviles  talked  about.  I 
suggested  that  they  should  slag  the  Old  Market  where 
the  meeting  was  held,  while  I  turned  in  a  call  to  you 
all  on  the  Board.  That  kept  'em  quiet  till  you  came 
along.  And — and  now  you  can  take  hold  of  the  situa- 
tion.' 

"Any  chance  of  their  quieting  down?'  De  Forest 
asked. 

*You  can  try,'  said  the  Mayor. 

De  Forest  raised  his  voice  in  the  face  of  the  reviving 
Crowd  that  had  edged  in  towards  us.     Day  was  come. 

*  Don't  you  think  this  business  can  be  arranged?' 
he  began.     But  there  was  a  roar  of  angry  voices: 

'We've  finished  with  Crowds!  We  aren't  going  back 
to  the  Old  Days!  Take  us  over!  Take  the  Serviles 
away!  Administer  direct  or  we'll  kill  'em!  Down 
with  The  People!' 

An  attempt  was  made  to  begin  MacDonough's  Song. 
It  got  no  further  than  the  first  fine,  for  the  Victor  Pirolo 
sent  down  a  warning  drone  on  one  stopped  horn.     A 


AS  EASY  AS  A. B.C.  27 

wrecked  side-wall  of  the  Old  Market  tottered  and  fell 
inwards  on  the  slag-pools.  None  spoke  or  moved  till 
the  last  of  the  dust  had  settled  down  again,  turning  the 
steel  case  of  Salati's  Statue  ashy  grey. 

*You  see  you'll  just  have  to  take  us  over,'  the  Mayor 
whispered. 

De  Forest  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

*  You  talk  as  if  executive  capacity  could  be  snatched 
out  of  the  air  like  so  much  horse-power.  Can't  you 
manage  yourselves  on  any  terms?'  he  said. 

*We  can,  if  you  say  so.  It  will  only  cost  those  few 
lives  to  begin  with/ 

The  Mayor  pointed  across  the  square,  where  Arnott's 
men  guided  a  stumbling  group  of  ten  or  twelve  men 
and  women  to  the  lake  front  and  halted  them  under 
the  Statue. 

*Now  I  think,'  said  Takahira  under  his  breath, 
*  there  will  be  trouble.' 

The  mass  in  front  of  us  growled  like  beasts. 

At  that  moment  the  sun  rose  clear,  and  revealed 
the  blinking  assembly  to  itself.  As  soon  as  it  realized 
that  it  was  a  crowd  we  saw  the  shiver  of  horror  and 
mutual  repulsion  shoot  across  it  precisely  as  the  steely 
flaws  shot  across  the  lake  outside.  Nothing  was  said, 
and,  being  half  blind,  of  course  it  moved  slowly.  Yet 
in  less  than  fifteen  minutes  most  of  that  vast  multitude 
— ^three  thousand  at  the  lowest  count — melted  away 
like  frost  on  south  eaves.  The  remnant  stretched 
themselves  on  the  grass,  where  a  crowd  feels  and  looks 
less  like  a  crowd. 


28  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'These  mean  business/  the  Mayor  whispered  to 
Takahira.  *  There  are  a  goodish  few  women  there 
who've  borne  children.     I  don't  Hke  it.' 

The  morning  draught  off  the  lake  stirred  the  trees 
round  us  with  promise  of  a  hot  day;  the  sun  reflected 
itself  dazzlingly  on  the  canister-shaped  covering  of 
Salati's  Statue;  cocks  crew  in  the  gardens,  and  we  could 
hear  gate-latches  clicking  in  the  distance  as  people 
stumblingly  resought  their  homes. 

'I'm  afraid  there  won't  be  any  morning  deliveries,' 
said  De  Forest.  *We  rather  upset  thing^in  the  country 
last  night.' 

*That  makes  no  odds,'  the  Mayor  returned.  'We're 
all  provisioned  for  six  months.     We  take  no  chances.' 

Nor,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  does  any  one  else. 
It  must  be  three-quarters  of  a  generation  since  any 
house  or  city  faced  a  food  shortage.  Yet  is  there 
house  or  city  on  the  Planet  to-day  that  has  not  half  a 
year's  provisions  laid  in  ?  We  are  like  the  shipwrecked 
seamen  in  the  old  books,  who,  having  once  nearly 
starved  to  death,  ever  afterwards  hide  away  bits  of 
food  and  biscuit.  Truly  we  trust  no  Crowds,  nor  sys- 
tem based  on  Crowds! 

De  Forest  waited  till  the  last  footstep  had  died  away. 
Meantime  the  prisoners  at  the  base  of  the  Statue 
shuffled,  posed,  and  fidgeted,  with  the  shamelessness  of 
quite  little  children.  None  of  them  were  more  than 
six  feet  high,  and  many  of  them  were  as  grey-haired 
as  the  ravaged,  harassed  heads  of  old  pictures.  They 
huddled  together  in  actual  touch,  while    the    crowd, 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  29 

spaced  at  large  intervals,  looked  at  them  with  con- 
gested eyes. 

Suddenly  a  man  among  them  began  to  talk.  The 
Mayor  had  not  in  the  least  exaggerated.  It  appeared 
that  our  Planet  lay  sunk  in  slavery  beneath  the  heel  of 
the  Aerial  Board  of  Control.  The  orator  urged  us  to 
arise  in  our  might,  burst  our  prison  doors  and  break  our 
fetters  (all  his  metaphors,  by  the  way,  were  of  the  most 
mediaeval).  Next  he  demanded  that  every  matter  of 
daily  life,  including  most  of  the  physical  functions, 
should  be  submitted  for  decision  at  any  time  of  the 
week,  month,  or  year  to,  I  gathered,  anybody  who 
happened  to  be  passing  by  or  residing  within  a  certain 
radius,  and  that  everybody  should  forthwith  abandon 
his  concerns  to  settle  the  matter,  first  by  crowd- 
making,  next  by  talking  to  the  crowds  made,  and  lastly 
by  describing  crosses  on  pieces  of  paper,  which  rubbish 
should  later  be  counted  with  certain  mystic  ceremonies 
and  oaths.  Out  of  this  amazing  play,  he  assured  us, 
would  automatically  arise  a  higher,  nobler,  and  kinder 
world,  based — he  demonstrated  this  with  the  awful 
lucidity  of  the  insane — based  on  the  sanctity  of  the 
Crowd  and  the  villainy  of  the  single  person.  In  con- 
clusion, he  called  loudly  upon  God  to  testify  to  his 
personal  merits  and  integrity.  When  the  flow  ceased, 
I  turned  bewildered  to  Takahira,  who  was  nodding 
solemnly. 

'Quite  correct,'  said  he.  'It  is  all  in  the  old 
books.  He  has  left  nothing  out,  not  even  the  war- 
talk.' 


30  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'But  I  don't  see  how  this  stuff  can  upset  a  child, 
much  less  a  district/  I  replied. 

'Ah,  you  are  too  young/  said  DragomirofF.  *For 
another  thing,  you  are  not  a  mamma.  Please  look  at 
the  mammas/ 

Ten  or  fifteen  women  who  remained  had  separated 
themselves  from  the  silent  men,  and  were  drawing  in 
towards  the  prisoners.  It  reminded  one  of  the  stealthy 
encircling,  before  the  rush  in  at  the  quarry,  of  wolves 
round  musk-oxen  in  the  North.  The  prisoners  saw, 
and  drew  together  more  closely.  The  Mayor  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands  for  an  instant.  De  Forest, 
bareheaded,  stepped  forward  between  the  prisoners, 
and  the  slowly,  stiffly  moving  line. 

'That's  all  very  interesting,'  he  said  to  the  dry- 
lipped  orator.  'But  the  point  seems  that  you've  been 
making  crowds  and  invading  privacy.' 

A  woman  stepped  forward,  and  would  have  spoken, 
but  there  was  a  quick  assenting  murmur  from  the  men, 
who  realised  that  De  Forest  was  trying  to  pull  the 
situation  down  to  ground-line. 

'Yes!  Yes!'  they  cried.  'We  cut  out  because  they 
made  crowds  and  invaded  privacy!  Stick  to  that! 
Keep  on  that  switch!  Lift  the  Serviles  out  of  this! 
The  Board's  in  charge!     Hsh!' 

'Yes,  the  Board's  in  charge,'  said  De  Forest.  'I'll  take 
formal  evidence  of  crowd-making  if  you  like,  but  the 
Members  of  the  Board  can  testify  to  it.     Will  that  do.?' 

The  women  had  closed  in  another  pace,  with  hands 
that  clenched  and  unclenched  at  their  sides. 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  31 

*Good!  Good  enough!'  the  men  cried.  'We're 
content.     Only  take  them  away  quickly.' 

'Come  along  up!'  said  De  Forest  to  the  captives, 
'Breakfast  is  quite  ready.' 

It  appeared,  however,  that  they  did  not  wish  to  go. 
They  intended  to  remain  in  Chicago  and  make  crowds. 
They  pointed  out  that  De  Forest's  proposal  was  gross 
invasion  of  privacy. 

'My  dear  fellow,'  said  Pirolo  to  the  most  voluble  of 
the  leaders,  'you  hurry,  or  your  crowd  that  can't  be 
wrong  will  kill  you ! ' 

'But  that  would  be  murder,'  answered  the  believer 
in  crowds;  and  there  was  a  roar  of  laughter  from  all 
sides  that  seemed  to  show  the  crisis  had  broken. 

A  woman  stepped  forward  from  the  line  of  women, 
laughing,  I  protest,  as  merrily  as  any  of  the  company. 
One  hand,  of  course,  shaded  her  eyes,  the  other  was  at 
her  throat. 

'Oh,  they  needn't  be  afraid  of  being  killed!'  she  called. 

'Not  in  the  least,'  said  De  Forest.  'But  don't  you 
think  that,  now  the  Board's  in  charge,  you  might  go 
home  while  we  get  these  people  away?' 

*I  shall  be  home  long  before  that.  It — it  has  been 
rather  a  trying  day.' 

She  stood  up  to  her  full  height,  dwarfing  even  De 
Forest's  six-foot-eight,  and  smiled,  with  eyes  closed 
against  the  fierce  light. 

'Yes,  rather,'  said  De  Forest.  Tm  afraid  you  feel 
the  glare  a  Httle.     We'll  have  the  ship  down.' 

He  motioned  to  the  Pirolo  to  drop  between  us  and 


32  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

the  sun,  and  at  the  same  time  to  loop-circuit  the  pris- 
oners, who  were  a  trifle  unsteady.  We  saw  them 
stiffen  to  the  current  where  they  stood.  The  woman^s 
voice  went  on,  sweet  and  deep  and  unshaken : 

*I  don^t  suppose  you  men  realise  how  much  this — 
this  sort  of  thing  means  to  a  woman.  Fve  borne  three. 
We  women  don't  want  our  children  given  to  Crowds. 
It  must  be  an  inherited  instinct.  Crowds  make  trouble. 
They  bring  back  the  Old  Days.  Hate,  fear,  blackmail, 
publicity,  "The  People "—rto.^  That!  That!'  She 
pointed  to  the  Statue,  and  the  crowd  growled  once 
more. 

*  Yes,  if  they  are  allowed  to  go  on,'  said  De  Forest. 
'But  this  little  affair ' 

'It  means  so  much  to  us  women  that  this — this  little 
affair  should  never  happen  again.  Of  course,  never's  a 
big  word,  but  one  feels  so  strongly  that  it  is  important 
to  stop  crowds  at  the  very  beginning.  Those  creatures' 
— she  pointed  with  her  left  hand  at  the  prisoners  sway- 
ing like  seaweed  in  a  tideway  as  the  circuit  pulled  them 
— 'those  people  have  friends  and  wives  and  children 
in  the  city  and  elsewhere.  One  doesn't  want  anything 
done  to  them,  you  know.  It's  terrible  to  force  a  human 
being  out  of  fifty  or  sixty  years  of  good  life.  I'm  only 
forty  myself.  /  know.  But,  at  the  same  time,  one 
feels  that  an  example  should  be  made,  because  no  price 
is  too  heavy  to  pay  if — if  these  people  and  all  that  they 
imply  can  be  put  an  end  to.  Do  you  quite  understand, 
or  would  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  your  men  to  take 
the  casing  off  the  Statue?     It's  worth  looking  at.' 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  33 

*I  understand  perfectly.  But  I  don't  think  anybody 
here  wants  to  see  the  Statue  on  an  empty  stomach. 
Excuse  me  one  moment.'  De  Forest  called  up  to  the 
ship,  *A  flying  loop  ready  on  the  port  side,  if  you  please.' 
Then  to  the  woman  he  said  with  some  crispness,  *You 
might  leave  us  a  little  discretion  in  the  matter.' 

*0h,  of  course.     Thank  you  for  being  so  patient. 

I  know  my  arguments  are  silly,  but '     She  half 

turned  away  and  went  on  in  a  changed  voice,  '  Perhaps 
this  will  help  you  to  decide.' 

She  threw  out  her  right  arm  with  a  knife  in  it.  Be- 
fore the  blade  could  be  returned  to  her  throat  or  her 
bosom  it  was  twitched  from  her  grip,  sparked  as  it  flew 
out  of  the  shadow  of  the  ship  above,  and  fell  flashing 
in  the  sunshine  at  the  foot  of  the  Statue  fifty  yards 
away.  The  outflung  arm  was  arrested,  rigid  as  a  bar 
for  an  instant,  till  the  releasing  circuit  permitted  her  to 
bring  it  slowly  to  her  side.  The  other  women  shrank 
back  silent  among  the  men. 

Pirolo  rubbed  his  hands,  and  Takahira  nodded. 

'That  was  clever  of  you,  De  Forest,'  said  he. 

*What  a  glorious  pose!'  DragomirofF  murmured,  for 
the  frightened  woman  was  on  the  edge  of  tears. 

*Why  did  you  stop  me?  I  would  have  done  it!'  she 
cried. 

*I  have  no  doubt  you  would,'  said  De  Forest.  *But 
we  can't  waste  a  life  like  yours  on  these  people.  I 
hope  the  arrest  didn't  sprain  your  wrist;  it's  so  hard 
to  regulate  a  flying  loop.  But  I  think  you  are  quite 
right  about  those  persons'  women  and  children.     We'll 


34  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

take  them  all  away  with  us  if  you  promise  not  to  do 
anything  stupid  to  yourself/ 

*I  promise — I  promise.'  She  controlled  herself  with 
an  effort.  'But  it  is  so  important  to  us  women.  We 
know  what  it  means;  and  I  thought  if  you  saw  I  was  in 
earnest ' 

*I  saw  you  were,  and  youVe  gained  your  point.  I 
shall  take  all  your  Serviles  away  with  me  at  once. 
The  Mayor  will  make  lists  of  their  friends  and  famiHes 
in  the  city  and  the  district,  and  he'll  ship  them  after 
us  this  afternoon.' 

*Sure,'  said  the  Mayor,  rising  to  his  feet.  *Keefe, 
if  you  can  see,  hadn't  you  better  finish  levelling  off  the 
Old  Market  ?  It  don't  look  sightly  the  way  it  is  now, 
and  we  shan't  use  it  for  crowds  an}^  more.' 

*I  think  you  had  better  wipe  out  that  Statue  as  well, 
Mr.  Mayor,'  said  De  Forest.  *I  don't  question  its 
merits  as  a  work  of  art,  but  I  believe  it's  a  shade  mor- 
bid.' 

'Certainly,  sir.  Oh,  Keefe!  Slag  the  Nigger  before 
you  go  on  to  fuse  the  Market.  I'll  get  to  the  Com- 
municators and  tell  the  District  that  the  Board  is  in 
charge.    Are  you  making  any  special  appointments,  sir .? ' 

'None.  We  haven't  men  to  waste  on  these  back- 
woods. Carry  on  as  before,  but  under  the  Board. 
Arnott,  run  your  Serviles  aboard,  please.  Ground 
ship  and  pass  them  through  the  bilge-doors.  We'll  wait 
till  we've  finished  with  this  work  of  art.' 

The  prisoners  trailed  past  him,  talking  fluently,  but 
unable  to  gesticulate  in  the  drag  of  the  current.     Then 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  35 

the  surfacers  rolled  up,  two  on  each  side  of  the  Statue. 
With  one  accord  the  spectators  looked  elsewhere,  but 
there  was  no  need.  Keefe  turned  on  full  power,  and 
the  thing  simply  melted  within  its  case.  All  I  saw  was 
a  surge  of  white-hot  metal  pouring  over  the  plinth,  a 
glimpse  of  Salati's  inscription,  'To  the  Eternal  Memory 
of  the  Justice  of  the  People,'  ere  the  stone  base  itself 
cracked  and  powdered  into  finest  lime.  The  crowd 
cheered. 

*  Thank  you,'  said  De  Forest;  *but  we  want  our  break- 
fasts, and  I  expect  you  do  too.  Good-bye,  Mr.  Mayor! 
Delighted  to  see  you  at  any  time,  but  I  hope  I  shan't 
have  to,  officially,  for  the  next  thirty  years.  Good-bye, 
madam.  Yes.  We're  all  given  to  nerves  nowadays. 
I  suffer  from  them  myself.  Good-bye,  gentlemen  all! 
You're  under  the  tyrannous  heel  of  the  Board  from  this 
moment,  but  if  ever  you  feel  like  breaking  your  fetters 
you've  only  to  let  us  know.  This  is  no  treat  to  us. 
Good  luck!' 

We  embarked  amid  shouts,  and  did  not  check  our 
lift  till  they  had  dwindled  into  whispers.  Then  De 
Forest  flung  himself  on  the  chart-room  divan  and 
mopped  his  forehead. 

*I  don't  mind  men,'  he  panted,  'but  women  are  the 
devil!' 

*  Still  the  devil,'  said  Pirolo  cheerfully.  *That  one 
would  have  suicided.' 

*I  know  it.  That  was  why  I  signalled  for  the  flying 
loop  to  be  clapped  on  her.  I  owe  you  an  apology  for 
that,  Arnott.     I  hadn't  time  to  catch  your  eye,  and 


36  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

you  were  busy  with  our  caitiffs.  By  the  way,  who 
actually  answered  my  signal?  It  was  a  smart  piece  of 
work/ 

*Ilroy/  said  Arnott;  *but  he  overloaded  the  wave. 
It  may  be  pretty  gallery-work  to  knock  a  knife  out  of  a 
lady's  hand,  but  didn't  you  notice  how  she  rubbed  'em  ? 
He  scorched  her  fingers.     Slovenly,  I  call  it.' 

*  Far  be  it  from  me  to  interfere  with  Fleet  discipHne, 
but  don't  be  too  hard  on  the  boy.  If  that  woman  had 
killed  herself  they  would  have  killed  every  Servile  and 
everything  related  to  a  Servile  throughout  the  district 
by  nightfall.' 

*That  was  what  she  was  playing  for,'  Takahira  said. 
*And  with  our  Fleet  gone  we  could  have  done  nothing 
to  hold  them.' 

*I  may  be  ass  enough  to  walk  into  a  ground-circuit,^ 
said  Arnott,  *but  I  don't  dismiss  my  Fleet  till  I'm 
reasonably  sure  that  trouble  is  over.  They're  in  posi- 
tion still,  and  I  intend  to  keep  'em  there  till  the  Serviles 
are  shipped  out  of  the  district.  That  last  little  crowd 
meant  murder,  my  friends.' 

*  Nerves!  All  nerves!'  said  Pirolo.  *You  cannot 
argue  with  agoraphobia.' 

*And  it  is  not  as  if  they  had  seen  much  dead — or  is 
it  ? '  said  Takahira. 

*In  all  my  ninety  years  I  have  never  seen  Death/ 
Dragomiroff  spoke  as  one  who  would  excuse  himself. 
'Perhaps  that  was  why — last  night ' 

Then  it  came  out  as  we  sat  over  breakfast,  that, 
with  the  exception  of  Arnott  and  Pirolo,  none  of  us 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  37 

had  ever  seen  a  corpse,  or  knew  in  what  manner  the 
spirit  passes. 

'We're  a  nice  lot  to  flap  about  governing  the  Planet,' 
De  Forest  laughed.  *I  confess,  now  it's  all  over,  that 
my  main  fear  was  I  mightn't  be  able  to  pull  it  oflF  with- 
out losing  a  life.' 

*I  thought  of  that  too,'  said  Arnott;  'but  there's  no 
death  reported,  and  I've  inquired  everywhere.  What 
are  we  supposed  to  do  with  our  passengers?  I've  fed 
'em.' 

'We're  between  two  switches,'  De  Forest  drawled. 
'If  we  drop  them  in  any  place  that  isn't  under  the  Board 
the  natives  will  make  their  presence  an  excuse  for  cutting 
out,  same  as  IlHnois  did,  and  forcing  the  Board  to  take 
over.  If  we  drop  them  in  any  place  under  the  Board's 
control  they'll  be  killed  as  soon  as  our  backs  are  turned,' 

'If  you  say  so,'  said  Pirolo  thoughtfully,  'I  can 
guarantee  that  they  will  become  extinct  in  process  of 
time,  quite  happily.     What  is  their  birth-rate  now?' 

'Go  down  and  ask  'em,'  said  De  Forest. 

'I  think  they  might  become  nervous  and  tear  me 
to  bits,'  the  philosopher  of  Foggia  replied. 

'Not  really?    Well?' 

'Open  the  bilge-doors,'  said  Takahira  with  a  down- 
ward jerk  of  the  thumb. 

'Scarcely — after  all  the  trouble  we've  taken  to  save 
'em,'  said  De  Forest. 

'Try  London,'  Arnott  suggested.  'You  could  turn 
Satan  himself  loose  there,  and  they'd  only  ask  him  to 
dinner.' 


38  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Good  man!  YouVe  given  me  an  idea.  Vincent! 
Oh,  Vincent!'  He  threw  the  General  Communicator 
open  so  that  we  could  all  hear,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
the  chart-room  filled  with  the  rich,  fruity  voice  of 
Leopold  Vincent,  who  has  purveyed  all  London  her 
choicest  amusements  for  the  last  thirty  years.  We 
answered  with  expectant  grins,  as  though  we  were 
actually  in  the  stalls  of,  say,  the  Combination  on  a 
first  night. 

'We've  picked  up  something  in  your  line,'  De  Forest 
began. 

*  That's  good,  dear  man.  If  it's  old  enough.  There's 
nothing  to  beat  the  old  things  for  business  purposes. 
Have  you  seen  London,  Chatham,  and  Dover  at  Earl's 
Court?  No?  I  thought  I  missed  you  there.  Im- 
mense! I've  had  the  real  steam  locomotive  engines 
built  from  the  old  designs  and  the  iron  rails  cast  specially 
by  hand.  Cloth  cushions  in  the  carriages,  too!  Im- 
mense! And  paper  railway  tickets.  And  Polly  Mil- 
ton.' 

'Polly  Milton  back  again!'  said  Arnott  rapturously. 
'Book  me  two  stalls  for  to-morrow  night.  What's 
she  singing  now,  bless  her?' 

'The  old  songs.  Nothing  comes  up  to  the  old  touch. 
Listen  to  this,  dear  men.'  Vincent  carolled  with 
flourishes : 

Oh,  cruel  lamps  of  London, 
If  tears  your  light  could  drown, 
Your  victims'  eyes  would  weep  them. 
Oh,  lights  of  London  Town! 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  39 

*Then  they  weep.' 

*You  see?'  Pirolo  waved  his  hands  at  us.  *The  old 
world  always  weeped  when  it  saw  crowds  together. 
It  did  not  know  why,  but  it  weeped.  We  know  why, 
but  we  do  not  weep,  except  when  we  pay  to  be  made 
to  by  fat,  wicked  old  Vincent.' 

'Old,  yourself!'  Vincent  laughed.  'I'm  a  public 
benefactor,  I  keep  the  world  soft  and  united.' 

*And  I'm  De  Forest  of  the  Board,'  said  De  Forest 
acidly,  'trying  to  get  a  little  business  done.  As  I  was 
saying,  I've  picked  up  a  few  people  in  Chicago.' 

*I  cut  out.     Chicago  is ' 

*Do  listen!     They're  perfectly  unique.' 

*Do  they  build  houses  of  baked  mudblocks  while 
you  wait — eh?     That's  an  old  contact.' 

'They're  an  untouched  primitive  community,  with 
all  the  old  ideas.' 

'Sewing-machines  and  maypole-dances?  Cooking 
on  coal-gas  stoves,  lighting  pipes  with  matches,  and 
driving  horses?  Gerolstein  tried  that  last  year.  An 
absolute  blow-out!' 

De  Forest  plugged  him  wrathfully,  and  poured  out 
the  story  of  our  doings  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours 
on  the  top-note. 

'And  they  do  it  all  in  public,'  he  concluded.  'You 
can't  stop  'em.  The  more  public,  the  better  they  are 
pleased.  They'll  talk  for  hours — like  you!  Now  you 
can  come  in  again!' 

'Do  you  really  mean  they  know  how  to  vote?'  said 
Vincent.     'Can  they  act  it?' 


40  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Act?  It's  their  life  to  'em!  And  you  never  saw 
such  faces!  Scarred  like  volcanoes.  Envy,  hatred, 
and  malice  in  plain  sight.  Wonderfully  flexible  voices. 
They  weep,  too.* 

*  Aloud?     In  public?* 

*I  guarantee.  Not  a  spark  of  shame  or  reticence  in 
the  entire  installation.     It's  the  chance  of  your  career.' 

*D'you  say  you've  brought  their  voting  props  along — 
those  papers  and  ballot-box  things?' 

*No,  confound  you!  I'm  not  a  luggage-lifter. 
Apply  direct  to  the  Mayor  of  Chicago.  He'll  forward 
you  everything.     Well?' 

'Wait  a  minute.  Did  Chicago  want  to  kill  'em? 
That  'ud  look  well  on  the  Communicators.' 

*Yes!  They  were  only  rescued  with  difficulty  from 
a  howling  mob — if  you  know  what  that  is.' 

*  But  I  don't,'  answered  the  Great  Vincent  simply. 
*Well  then,  they'll  tell  you  themselves.     They  can 

make  speeches  hours  long.' 

'How  many  are  there?' 

'  By  the  time  we  ship  'em  all  over  they'll  be  perhaps 
a  hundred,  counting  children.  An  old  world  in  minia- 
ture.    Can't  you  see  it?' 

*M-yes;  but  I've  got  to  pay  for  it  if  it's  a  blow-out, 
dear  man.' 

*They  can  sing  the  old  war  songs  in  the  streets. 
They  can  get  word-drunk,  and  make  crowds,  and  invade 
privacy  in  the  genuine  old-fashioned  way;  and  they'll 
do  the  voting  trick  as  often  as  you  ask  'em  a  question.' 

'Too  good!'  said  Vincent. 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  41 

*You  unbelieving  Jew!  IVe  got  a  dozen  head  aboard 
here.  I'll  put  you  through  direct.  Sample  'em  your- 
self.' 

He  lifted  the  switch  and  we  listened.  Our  passengers 
on  the  lower  deck  at  once,  but  not  less  than  five  at  a 
time,  explained  themselves  to  Vincent.  They  had 
been  taken  from  the  bosom  of  their  families,  stripped  of 
their  possessions,  given  food  without  finger-bowls,  and 
cast  into  captivity  in  a  noisome  dungeon. 

'But  look  here,'  said  Arnott  aghast;  *  they're  saying 
what  isn't  true.  My  lower  deck  isn't  noisome,  and  I 
saw  to  the  finger-bowls  myself.' 

*My  people  talk  like  that  sometimes  in  Little  Russia,' 
said  DragomirofF.  *We  reason  with  them.  We  never 
kill.     No!' 

*But  it's  not  true,'  Arnott  insisted.  'What  can  you 
do  with  people  who  don't  tell  facts  ?     They're  mad ! ' 

'Hshl'  said  Pirolo,  his  hand  to  his  ear.  *It  is  such  a 
little  time  since  all  the  Planet  told  lies.' 

We  heard  Vincent  silkily  sympathetic.  Would  they, 
he  asked,  repeat  their  assertions  in  public — before  a 
vast  public?  Only  let  Vincent  give  them  a  chance, 
and  the  Planet,  they  vowed,  should  ring  with  their 
wrongs.  Their  aim  in  life — two  women  and  a  man  ex- 
plained it  together — ^was  to  reform  the  world.  Oddly 
enough,  this  also  had  been  Vincent's  life-dream.  He 
offered  them  an  arena  in  which  to  explain,  and  by  their 
living  example  to  raise  the  Planet  to  loftier  levels.  He 
was  eloquent  on  the  moral  uplift  of  a  simple,  old-world 
life  presented  in  its  entirety  to  a  deboshed  civiHsation. 


42  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Could  they — would  they — for  three  months  certain, 
devote  themselves  under  his  auspices,  as  missionaries, 
to  the  elevation  of  mankind  at  a  place  called  Earl's 
Court,  which  he  said,  with  some  truth,  was  one  of  the 
intellectual  centres  of  the  Planet?  They  thanked  him, 
and  demanded  (we  could  hear  his  chuckle  of  delight) 
time  to  discuss  and  to  vote  on  the  matter.  The  vote, 
solemnly  managed  by  counting  heads — one  head,  one 
vote — ^was  favourable.  His  offer,  therefore,  was  ac- 
cepted, and  they  moved  a  vote  of  thanks  to^iim  ii\. 
two  speeches — one  by  what  they  called  the  'proposer^ 
and  the  other  by  the  *  seconder.' 

Vincent  threw  over  to  us,  his  voice  shaking  with 
gratitude: 

Tve  got  'em!  Did  you  hear  those  speeches? 
That's  Nature,  dear  men.  Art  can't  teach  that. 
And  they  voted  as  easily  as  lying.  I've  never  had  a 
troupe*  of  natural  liars  before.  Bless  you,  dear  men! 
Remember,  you're  on  my  free  lists  for  ever,  anywhere — 
all  of  you.     Oh,  Gerolstein  will  be  sick — sick!' 

'Then  you  think  they'll  do?'  said  De  Forest. 

*Do?  The  Little  Village  '11  go  crazy!  I'll  knock 
up  a  series  of  old-world  plays  for  'em.  Their  voices 
will  make  you  laugh  and  cry.  My  God,  dear  men, 
where  do  you  suppose  they  picked  up  all  their  misery 
from,  on  this  sweet  earth  ?  I'll  have  a  pageant  of  the 
world's  beginnings,  and  Mosenthal  shall  do  the  music. 
I'll ' 

*Go  and  knock  up  a  village  for  'em  by  to-night. 
We'll  meet  you  at  No.  15  West  Landing  Tower,'  said 


AS  EASY  AS  A.B.C.  43 

De  Forest.  *  Remember  the  rest  will  be  coming  along 
to-morrow.' 

*Let  'em  all  comeT  said  Vincent.  *You  don't  know 
how  hard  it  is  nowadays  even  for  me,  to  find  something 
that  really  gets  under  the  pubHc's  damned  iridium- 
plated  hide.     But  I've  got  it  at  last.     Good-bye!' 

*Well,'  said  De  Forest  when  we  had  finished  laughing, 
*if  any  one  understood  corruption  in  London  I  might 
have  played  off  Vincent  against  Gerolstein,  and  sold 
my  captives  at  enormous  prices.  As  it  is,  I  shall  have 
to  be  their  legal  adviser  to-night  when  the  contracts  are 
signed.  And  they  won't  exactly  press  any  commission 
on  me,  either.' 

'Meantime,'  said  Takahira,  *we  cannot,  of  course, 
confine  members  of  Leopold  Vincent's  last-engaged 
company.     Chairs  for  the  ladies,  please,  Arnott.' 

'Then  I  go  to  bed,'  said  De  Forest.  *I  can't  face 
any  more  women!'     And  he  vanished. 

When  our  passengers  were  released  and  given  another 
meal  (finger-bowls  came  first  this  time)  they  told  us 
what  they  thought  of  us  and  the  Board;  and,  like  Vin- 
cent, we  all  marvelled  how  they  had  contrived  to  ex- 
tract and  secrete  so  much  bitter  poison  and  unrest 
out  of  the  good  life  God  gives  us.  They  raged,  they 
stormed,  they  palpitated,  flushed  and  exhausted  their 
poor,  torn  nerves,  panted  themselves  into  silence,  and 
renewed  the  senseless,  shameless  attacks. 

*But  can't  you  understand,'  said  Pirolo  pathetically 
to  a  shrieking  woman,  'that  if  we'd  left  you  in  Chicago 
you'd  have  been  killed  ? ' 


44  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*No,  we  shouldn't.  You  were  bound  to  save  us  from 
being  murdered/ 

'Then  we  should  have  had  to  kill  a  lot  of  other 
people.* 

'That  doesn't  matter.  We  were  preaching  the  Truth. 
You  can't  stop  us.  We  shall  go  on  preaching  in  Lon- 
don; and  then  you'll  see!' 

'You  can  see  now,'  said  Pirolo,  and  opened  a  lower 
shutter. 

We  were  closing  on  the  Little  Village,  with  her  three 
million  people  spread  out  at  ease  inside  her  ring  of 
girdling  Main-Traffic  Hghts — those  eight  fixed  beams 
at  Chatham,  Tonbridge,  Redhill,  Dorking,  Woking, 
St.  Albans,  Chipping  Ongar,  and  Southend. 

Leopold  Vincent's  new  company  looked,  with  small 
pale  faces,  at  the  silence,  the  size,  and  the  separated 
houses. 

Then  some  began  to  weep  aloud,  shamelessly — 
always  without  shame. 


MACDONOUGH'S  SONG 

Whether  the  State  can  loose  and  bind 

In  Heaven  as  well  as  on  Earth : 
If  it  be  wiser  to  kill  mankind 

Before  or  after  the  birth — 
These  are  matters  of  high  concern 

Where  State-kept  schoolmen  are; 
But  Holy  State  (we  have  lived  to  learn) 

Endeth  in  Holy  War. 

Whether  The  People  be  led  by  the  Lord, 

Or  lured  by  the  loudest  throat: 
If  it  be  quicker  to  die  by  the  sword 

Or  cheaper  to  die  by  vote— 
These  are  the  things  we  have  dealt  with  once, 

(And  they  will  not  rise  from  their  grave) 
For  Holy  People,  however  it  runs, 

Endeth  in  wholly  Slave. 

Whatsoever,  for  any  cause, 

Seeketh  to  take  or  give, 
Power  above  or  beyond  the  Laws, 

Suffer  it  not  to  live! 
Holy  State  or  Holy  King — 

Or  Holy  People's  Will— 
45 


46  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Have  no  truck  with  the  senseless  thing. 
Order  the  guns  and  kill  1 

Saying — after — me: — 

Once  there  was  The  People — Terror  gave  it  birth; 
Once  there  was  The  People  and  it  made  a  Hell  of  Earth. 
Earth  arose  and  crushed  it.     Listen,  0  ye  slain  ! 
Once  there  was  The  People — it  shall  never  he  again  ! 


Friendly  Brook 

(March  191 4) 

The  valley  was  so  choked  with  fog  that  one  could 
scarcely  see  a  cow's  length  across  a  field.  Every  blade, 
twig,  bracken-frond,  and  hoof-print  carried  water,  and 
the  air  was  filled  with  the  noise  of  rushing  ditches  and 
field-drains,  all  delivering  to  the  brook  below.  A  week's 
November  rain  on  water-logged  land  had  gorged  her 
to  full  flood,  and  she  proclaimed  it  aloud. 

Two  men  in  sackcloth  aprons  were  considering  an 
untrimmed  hedge  that  ran  down  the  hillside  and  dis- 
appeared into  mist  beside  those  roarings.  They  stood 
back  and  took  stock  of  the  neglected  growth,  tapped  an 
elbow  of  hedge-oak  here,  a  mossed  beech-stub  there, 
swayed  a  stooled  ash  back  and  forth,  and  looked  at 
each  other. 

*I  reckon  she's  about  two  rod  thick,'  said  Jabez 
the  younger,  *an'  she  hasn't  felt  iron  since — ^when  has 
she,  Jesse?' 

*Call  it  twenty-five  year,  Jabez,  an'  you  won't  be 
far  out.' 

*Umm!'  Jabez  rubbed  his  wet  handbill  on  his 
wetter    coat-sleeve.     *She    ain't    a    hedge.     She's    all 

manner  o'  trees.     We'll  just  about  have  to '     He 

paused,  as  professional  etiquette  required. 

47 


48  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Just  about  have  to  side  her  up  an'  see  what  she'll 

bear.     But    hadn't   we    best ?'     Jesse    paused    in 

his  turn,  both  men  being  artists  and  equals. 

*Get  some  kind  o'  Hne  to  go  by.'  Jabez  ranged  up 
and  down  till  he  found  a  thinner  place,  and  with  clean 
snicks  of  the  handbill  revealed  the  original  face  of  the 
fence.  Jesse  took  over  the  dripping  stuff  as  it  fell 
forward,  and,  with  a  grasp  and  a  kick,  made  it  to  lie 
orderly  on  the  bank  till  it  should  be  faggoted. 

By  noon  a  length  of  unclean  jungle  had  turned  itself 
into  a  cattle-proof  barrier,  tufted  here  and  there  with 
little  plumes  of  the  sacred  holly  which  no  woodman 
touches  without  orders. 

'Now  we've  a  witness-board  to  go  by!'  said  Jesse  at 
last. 

'She  won't  be  as  easy  as  this  all  along,'  Jabez  an- 
swered. 'She'll  need  plenty  stakes  and  binders  when 
we  come  to  the  brook.' 

'Well,  ain't  we  plenty.^'  Jesse  pointed  to  the  ragged 
perspective  ahead  of  them  that  plunged  downhill  into 
the  fog.  'I  lay  there's  a  cord  an'  a  half  o'  firewood,  let 
alone  faggots,  'fore  we  get  anywheres  anigh  the  brook.' 

'The  brook's  got  up  a  piece  since  morning,'  said 
Jabez.  'Sounds  like's  if  she  was  over  Wickenden's 
door-stones.' 

Jesse  listened,  too.  There  was  a  growl  in  the  brook's 
roar  as  though  she  worried  something  hard. 

'Yes.  She's  over  Wickenden's  door-stones,'  he 
replied.  'Now  she'll  flood  acrost  Alder  Bay  an'  that  '11 
ease  her.' 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  49 

'She  won't  ease  Jim  Wickenden's  hay  none  if  she  do,' 
Jabez  grunted.  *I  told  Jim  he'd  set  that  liddle  hay- 
stack o'  his  too  low  down  in  the  medder.  I  told  him 
so  when  he  was  drawin'  the  bottom  for  it.' 

*I  told  him  so,  too,'  said  Jesse.  *I  told  him  'fore 
ever  you  did.  I  told  him  when  the  County  Council 
tarred  the  roads  up  along.'  He  pointed  up-hill,  where 
unseen  automobiles  and  road-engines  droned  past 
continually.  *A  tarred  road,  she  shoots  every  drop  o' 
water  into  a  valley  same's  a  slate  roof.  'Tisn't  as  'twas 
in  the  old  days,  when  the  waters  soaked  in  and  soaked 
out  in  the  way  o'  nature.  It  rooshes  off  they  tarred 
roads  all  of  a  lump,  and  naturally  every  drop  is  bound 
to  descend  into  the  valley.  And  there's  tar  roads 
both  two  sides  this  valley  for  ten  mile.  That's  what 
I  told  Jim  Wickenden  when  they  tarred  the  roads  last 
year.  But  he's  a  valley-man.  He  don't  hardly  ever 
journey  up-hill.' 

'What  did  he  say  when  you  told  him  that?'  Jabez 
demanded,  with  a  little  change  of  voice. 

*  Why  ?  What  did  he  say  to  you  when  you  told  him  ? ' 
was  the  answer. 

*What  he  said  to  you,  I  reckon,  Jesse.' 

*Then,  you  don't  need  me  to  say  it  over  again, 
Jabez.' 

*Well,  let  be  how  'twill,  what  was  he  gettin'  after 
when  he  said  what  he  said  to  me?'  Jabez  insisted. 

*/  dunno;  unless  you  tell  me  what  manner  o'  words 
he  said  to  yow.' 

Jabez  drew  back  from   the  hedge — all  hedges   are 


50  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

nests  of  treachery  and  eavesdropping — and  moved  to 
an  open  cattle-lodge  in  the  centre  of  the  field. 

*No  need  to  go  ferretin'  around,'  said  Jesse.  *None 
can't  see  us  here  'fore  we  see  them.' 

*What  was  Jim  Wickenden  gettin'  at  when  I  said 
he'd  set  his  stack  too  near  anigh  the  brook?'  Jabez 
dropped  his  voice.     *He  was  in  his  mind.' 

*He  ain't  never  been  out  of  it  yet  to  my  knowledge/ 
Jesse  drawled,  and  uncorked  his  tea-bottle. 

*But  then  Jim  says:  "I  ain't  goin'  to  shift  my  stack 
a  yard,"  he  says.  "The  Brook's  been  good  friends  to 
me,  and  if  she  be  minded,"  he  says,  "to  take  a  snatch 
at  my  hay,  /  ain't  settin'  out  to  withstand  her."  That's 
what  Jim  Wickenden  says  to  me  last — last  June-end 
'twas,'  said  Jabez. 

*Nor  he  hasn't  shifted  his  stack,  neither,'  Jesse  re- 
plied. *An'  if  there's  more  rain,  the  brook  she'll  shift 
it  for  him.' 

*No  need  tell  me  !  But  I  want  to  know  what  Jim 
was  gettin'  at  ? ' 

Jabez  opened  his  clasp-knife  very  deliberately;  Jesse 
as  carefully  opened  his.  They  unfolded  the  newspapers 
that  wrapped  their  dinners,  coiled  away  and  pocketed 
the  string  that  bound  the  packages,  and  sat  down  on 
the  edge  of  the  lodge  manger.  The  rain  began  to  fall 
again  through  the  fog,  and  the  brook's  voice  rose. 


*But  I  always  allowed  Mary  was  his  lawful  child, 
like,'  said  Jabez,  after  Jesse  had  spoken  for  a  while. 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  51 


{  y 


'Tain't  so.  .  .  .  Jim  Wickenden's  woman  she 
never  made  nothing.  She  come  out  o'  Lewes  with  her 
stockin's  round  her  heels,  an'  she  never  made  nor 
mended  aught  till  she  died.  He  had  to  light  fire  an' 
get  breakfast  every  mornin'  except  Sundays,  while  she 
sowed  it  abed.  Then  she  took  an'  died,  sixteen,  seven- 
teen, year  back;  but  she  never  had  no  childern.' 

*They  was  valley-folk,'  said  Jabez  apologetically. 
*rd  no  call  to  go  in  among  'em,  but  I  always  allowed 
Mary ' 

*No.  Mary  come  out  o'  one  o'  those  Lunnon  Chil- 
dern  Societies.  After  his  woman  died,  Jim  got  his 
mother  back  from  his  sister  over  to  Peasmarsh,  which 
she'd  gone  to  house  with  when  Jim  married.  His 
mother  kept  house  for  Jim  after  his  woman  died. 
They  do  say  'twas  his  mother  led  him  on  toward 
adoptin'  of  Mary — to  furnish  out  the  house  with  a 
child,  like,  and  to  keep  him  off  of  gettin'  a  noo  woman. 
He  mostly  done  what  his  mother  contrived.  'Car- 
denly,  twixt  'em,  they  asked  for  a  child  from  one  o' 
those  Lunnon  societies — same  as  it  might  ha'  been 
these  Barnardo  children — an'  Mary  was  sent  down  to 
'em,  in  a  candle-box,  I've  heard.' 

*Then  Mary  is  chance-born.  I  never  knowed  that,' 
said  Jabez.  *Yet  I  must  ha'  heard  it  some  time  or 
other     .     .     .' 

*No.  She  ain't.  'Twould  ha'  been  better  for  some 
folk  if  she  had  been.  She  come  to  Jim  in  a  candle-box 
with  all  the  proper  papers — lawful  child  o'  some  couple 
in  Lunnon  somewheres — mother  dead,  father  drinkin'. 


52  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

And  there  was  that  Lunnon  society's  five  shillin's  a  week 
for  her.  Jim's  mother  she  wouldn't  despise  week-end 
money,  but  I  never  heard  Jim  was  much  of  a  muck- 
grubber.  Let  be  how  'twill,  they  two  mothered  up 
Mary  no  bounds,  till  it  looked  at  last  Hke  they'd  forgot 
she  wasn't  their  own  flesh  an'  blood.  Yes,  I  reckon 
they  forgot  Mary  wasn't  their'n  by  rights.' 

*  That's  no  new  thing,'  said  Jabez.  *  There's  more'n 
one  or  two  in  this  parish  wouldn't  surrender  back  their 
Bernarders.  You  ask  Mark  Copley  an'  his  woman 
an'  that  Bernarder  cripple-babe  o'  theirs.' 

*  Maybe  they  need  the  five  shiUin','  Jesse  suggested. 
'It's  handy,'   said   Jabez.     'But  the  child's   more. 

"Dada"  he  says,  an'  "Mumma"  he  says,  with  his 
great  roUin'  head-piece  all  hurdled  up  in  that  iron 
collar.  He  won't  live  long — his  backbone's  rotten,  like. 
But  they  Copleys  do  just  about  set  store  by  him — five 
bob  or  no  five  bob.' 

'Same  way  with  Jim  an'  his  mother,'  Jesse  went  on. 
'There  was  talk  betwixt  'em  after  a  few  years  o'  not 
takin'  any  more  week-end  money  for  Mary;  but  let 
alone  she  never  passed  a  farden  in  the  mire  'thout 
longin's,  Jim  didn't  care,  like,  to  push  himself  forward 
Into  the  Society's  remembrance.  So  naun  came  of  it. 
The  week-end  money  would  ha'  made  no  odds  to  Jim — 
not  after  his  uncle  willed  him  they  four  cottages  at 
Eastbourne  an^  money  in  the  bank.' 

'That  was  true,  too,  then?  I  heard  something 
in  a  scadderin'  word-o'-mouth  way,'  said  Jabez. 

'I'll  answer  for  the  house  property,  because  Jim  he 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  53 

requested  my  signed  name  at  the  foot  o'  some  papers 
concernin'  it.  Regardin'  the  money  in  the  bank,  he 
nature-ally  wouldn't  like  such  things  talked  about  all 
round  the  parish,  so  he  took  strangers  for  witnesses/ 

'Then  'twill  make  Mary  worth  seekin'  after?' 

'She'll  need  it.  Her  Maker  ain't  done  much  for  her 
outside  nor  yet  in.' 

*That  ain't  no  odds.'  Jabez  shook  his  head  till  the 
water  showered  oflF  his  hat-brim.  *If  Mary  has  money, 
she'll  be  wed  before  any  likely  pore  maid.  She's  cause 
to  be  grateful  to  Jim.' 

*She  hides  it  middlin'  close,  then,'  said  Jesse.  *It 
don't  sometimes  look  to  me  as  if  Mary  has  her  natural 
rightful  feelin's.  She  don't  put  on  an  apron  o'  Mon- 
days 'thout  being  druv  to  it — in  the  kitchen  or  the 
hen-house.  She's  studyin'  to  be  a  school-teacher. 
She'll  make  a  beauty!  I  never  knowed  her  show  any 
sort  o'  kindness  to  nobody — not  even  when  Jim's 
mother  was  took  dumb.  No!  'Twadn't  no  stroke. 
It  stifled  the  old  lady  in  the  throat  here.  First  she 
couldn't  shape  her  words  no  shape;  then  she  clucked, 
like,  an'  lastly  she  couldn't  more  than  suck  down  spoon- 
meat  an'  hold  her  peace.  Jim  took  her  to  Doctor 
Harding,  an'  Harding  he  bundled  her  ofF  to  Brighton 
Hospital  on  a  ticket,  but  they  couldn't  make  no  stay 
to  her  afflictions  there;  and  she  was  bundled  off  to 
Lunnon,  an'  they  lit  a  great  old  lamp  inside  her,  and 
Jim  told  me  they  couldn't  make  out  nothing  in  no 
sort  there;  and,  along  o'  one  thing  an'  another,  an'  all 
their  spyin's  and  pryin's,  she  come  back  a  hem  sight 


54  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

worse  than  when  she  started.  Jim  said  he'd  have  no 
more  hospitaHzin',  so  he  give  her  a  slate,  which  she 
tied  to  her  waist-string,  and  what  she  was  minded  to 
say  she  writ  on  it.' 

*  Now,  I  never  knowed  that !  But  they're  valley-folk,' 
Jabez  repeated. 

*  'Twadn't  particular  noticeable,  for  she  wasn't  a 
talkin'  woman  any  time  o'  her  days.  Mary  had  all 
three's  tongue.  .  .  .  Well,  then,  two  years  this 
summer,  come  what  I'm  tellin'  you.  Mary's  Lunnon 
father,  which  they'd  put  clean  out  o'  their  minds,  ar- 
rived down  from  Lunnon  with  the  law  on  his  side, 
sayin'  he'd  take  his  daughter  back  to  Lunnon,  after  all. 
I  was  working  for  Mus'  Dockett  at  Pounds  Farm  that 
summer,  but  I  was  obligin'  Jim  that  evenin'  muckin' 
out  his  pig-pen.  I  seed  a  stranger  come  traipsin'  over 
the  bridge  agin'  Wickenden's  door-stones.  'Twadn't 
the  new  County  Council  bridge  with  the  handrail. 
They  hadn't  given  it  in  for  a  pubHc  right  o'  way  then. 
'Twas  just  a  bit  o'  lathy  old  plank  which  Jim  had 
throwed  acrost  the  brook  for  his  own  conveniences. 
The  man  wasn't  drunk — only  a  little  concerned  in 
liquor,  like — an'  his  back  was  a  mask  where  he'd  slipped 
in  the  muck  comin'  along.  He  went  up  the  bricks  past 
Jim's  mother,  which  was  feedin'  the  ducks,  an'  set 
himself  down  at  the  table  inside — ^Jim  was  just  changin' 
his  socks — an'  the  man  let  Jim  know  all  his  rights 
and  aims  regardin'  Mary.  Then  there  just  about  was 
z  hurly-bulloo  ?  Jim's  fust  mind  was  to  pitch  him 
forth,  but  he'd  done  that  once  in  his  young  days,  and 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  55 

got  six  months  up  to  Lewes  jail  along  o'  the  man  fallin' 
on  his  head.  So  he  swallowed  his  spittle  an'  let  him 
talk.  The  law  about  Mary  was  on  the  man's  side  from 
fust  to  last,  for  he  showed  us  all  the  papers.  Then 
Mary  come  downstairs — she'd  been  studyin'  for  an 
examination — an'  the  man  tells  her  who  he  was,  an' 
she  says  he  had  ought  to  have  took  proper  care  of  his 
own  flesh  and  blood  while  he  had  it  by  him,  an'  not  to 
think  he  could  ree-claim  it  when  it  suited.  He  says 
somethin'  or  other,  but  she  looks  him  up  an'  down, 
front  an'  backwent,  an'  she  just  tongues  him  scadderin' 
out  o'  doors,  and  he  went  away  stuffin'  all  the  papers 
back  into  his  hat,  talkin'  most  abusefully.  Then  she 
come  back  an'  freed  her  mind  against  Jim  an'  his 
mother  for  not  havin'  warned  her  of  her  upbringin's, 
which  it  come  out  she  hadn't  ever  been  told.  They 
didn't  say  naun  to  her.  They  never  did.  /'d  ha' 
packed  her  off  with  any  man  that  would  ha'  took  her — 
an'  God's  pity  on  him!' 

*Umm!'  said  Jabez,  and  sucked  his  pipe, 

*So  then,  that  was  the  beginnin.'  The  man  come 
back  again  next  week  or  so,  an'  he  catched  Jim  alone, 
'thout  his  mother  this  time,  an'  he  fair  beazled  him 
with  his  papers  an'  his  talk — for  the  law  was  on  his  side 
— till  Jim  went  down  into  his  money-purse  an'  give  him 
ten  shillings  hush-money — he  told  me — to  withdraw 
away  for  a  bit  an'  leave  Mary  with  'em.' 

'But  that's  no  way  to  get  rid  o'  man  or  woman,' 
Jabez  said. 

*No  more  'tis.     I  told  Jim  so.     "What  can  I  do.?" 


56  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Jim  says.  "The  law's  with  the  man.  I  walk  about 
daytimes  thinkin'  o'  it  till  I  sweats  my  underclothes 
wringin',  an'  I  lie  abed  nights  thinkin'  o'  it  till  I  sweats 
my  sheets  all  of  a  sop.  'Tisn't  as  if  I  was  a  young  man/* 
he  says,  "nor  yet  as  if  I  was  a  pore  man.  Maybe  he'll 
drink  hisself  to  death."  I  e'en  a'most  told  him  outright 
what  foolishness  he  was  enterin'  into,  but  he  knowed  it 
— he  knowed  it — because  he  said  next  time  the  man 
come  'twould  be  fifteen  shillin's.  An'  next  time  'twas. 
Just  fifteen  shillin's!' 

*An'  was  the  man  her  father?'  asked  Jabez. 

*He  had  the  proofs  an'  the  papers.  Jim  showed  me 
what  that  Lunnon  Childern's  Society  had  answered 
when  Mary  writ  up  to  'em  an'  taxed  'em  with  it.  I 
lay  she  hadn't  been  proper  poHte  in  her  letters  to  'em, 
for  they  answered  middlin'  short.  They  said  the 
matter  was  out  o'  their  hands,  but — let's  see  if  I  re- 
member— oh,  yes, — they  ree-gretted  there  had  been  an 
oversight.  I  reckon  they  had  sent  Mary  out  in  the 
candle-box  as  a  orphan  instead  o'  havin'  a  father. 
Terrible  awkward!  Then,  when  he'd  drinked  up  the 
money,  the  man  come  again — in  his  usuals — an'  he 
kept  hammerin'  on  and  hammerin'  on  about  his  duty 
to  his  pore  dear  wife,  an'  what  he'd  do  for  his  dear 
daughter  in  Lunnon,  till  the  tears  runned  down  his 
two  dirty  cheeks  an'  he  come  away  with  more  money. 
Jim  used  to  slip  it  into  his  hand  behind  the  door; 
but  his  mother  she  heard  the  chink.  She  didn't  hold 
with  hush-money.  She'd  write  out  all  her  feelin's  on 
the  slate,  an'  Jim  'ud  be  settin'  up  half  the  night  answer- 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  57 

in  *  back  an'  showing  that  the  man  had  the  law  with 
him.' 

'Hadn't  that  man  no  trade  nor  business,  then?' 

*  He  told  me  he  was  a  printer.  I  reckon,  though,  he 
lived  on  the  rates  like  the  rest  of  'em  up  there  in 
Lunnon.' 

'An'  how  did  Mary  take  it?' 

'She  said  she'd  sooner  go  into  service  than  go  with 
the  man.  I  reckon  a  mistress  'ud  be  middlin'  put  to 
it  for  a  maid  'fore  she  put  Mary  into  cap  an'  gown. 
She  was  studyin'  to  be  a  schoo-ool-teacher.  A  beauty 
she'll  make!  .  .  .  Well,  that  was  how  things  went 
that  fall.  Mary's  Lunnon  father  kep'  comin'  an* 
comin'  'carden  as  he'd  drinked  out  the  money  Jim 
gave  him;  an'  each  time  he'd  put  up  his  price  for  not 
takin'  Mary  away.  Jim's  mother,  she  didn't  like 
partin'  with  no  money,  an'  bein'  obliged  to  write  her 
feelin's  on  the  slate  instead  o'  givin'  'em  vent  by  mouth, 
she  was  just  about  mad.     Just  about  she  was  mad! 

'Come  November,  I  lodged  with  Jim  in  the  outside 
room  over  'gainst  his  hen-house.  I  paid  her  my  rent. 
I  was  workin'  for  Dockett  at  Pounds — gettin'  chestnut- 
bats  out  o'  Perry  Shaw.  Just  such  weather  as  this  be 
— rain  atop  o'  rain  after  a  wet  October.  (An'  I  remem- 
ber it  ended  in  dry  frostes  right  away  up  to  Christmas.) 
Dockett  he'd  sent  up  to  Perry  Shaw  for  me — no,  he 
comes  puffin'  up  to  me  himself — because  a  big  corner- 
piece  o'  the  bank  had  slipped  into  the  brook  where 
she  makes  that  elber  at  the  bottom  o'  the  Seventeen 
Acre,  an'  all  the  rubbishy  alders  an'  sallies  which  he 


58  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

ought  to  have  cut  out  when  he  took  the  farm,  they'd 
slipped  with  the  slip,  an'  the  brook  was  comin'  rooshin' 
down  atop  of  'em,  an'  they'd  just  about  back  an'  spill 
the  waters  over  his  winter  wheat.  The  water  was  lyin' 
in  the  flats  already.  "Gor  a-mighty,  Jesse!"  he  bellers 
out  at  me,  "get  that  rubbish  away  all  manners  you  can. 
Don't  stop  for  no  fagottin',  but  give  the  brook  play  or 
my  wheat's  past  salvation.  I  can't  lend  you  no  help," 
he  says,  "but  work  an'  I'll  pay  ye.'" 

*You  had  him  there,'  Jabez  chuckled. 

^es.  1  reckon  I  had  ought  to  have  drove  my  bar- 
gain, but  the  brook  was  backin'  up  on  good  bread-corn. 
So  'cardenly,  I  laid  into  the  mess  of  it,  workin'  off  the 
bank  where  the  trees  was  drownin'  themselves  head- 
down  in  the  roosh — ^just  such  weather  as  this — an'  the 
brook  creepin'  up  on  me  all  the  time.  'Long  toward 
noon,  Jim  comes  mowchin'  along  with  his  toppin'  axe 
over  his  shoulder. 

*"Be  you  minded  for  an  extra  hand  at  your  job.?" 
he  says. 

*"Be  you  minded  to  turn  to.?"  I  ses,  an' — no  more 
talk  to  it — ^Jim  laid  in  alongside  o'  me.  He's  no  hunger 
with  a  toppin'  axe.' 

*  Maybe,  but  I've  seed  him  at  a  job  o'  throwin'  in 
the  woods,  an'  he  didn't  seem  to  make  out  no  shape,' 
said  Jabez.  *He  haven't  got  the  shoulders,  nor  yet  the 
judgment — my  opinion — ^when  he's  dealin'  with  full-girt 
timber.  He  don't  rightly  make  up  his  mind  where  he's 
goin'  to  throw  her.' 

*We  wasn't  throwin'  nothin'.     We  was  cuttin'  out 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  59 

they  soft  alders,  an'  haulin'  'em  up  the  bank  'fore  they 
could  back  the  waters  on  the  wheat.  Jim  didn't  say 
much,  'less  it  was  that  he'd  had  a  post-card  from 
Mary's  Lunnon  father,  night  before,  sayin'  he  was 
comin'  down  that  mornin'.  Jim,  he'd  sweated  all  night, 
an'  he  didn't  reckon  hisself  equal  to  the  talkin'  an'  the 
swearin'  an'  the  cryin',  an'  his  mother  blamin'  him 
afterwards  on  the  slate.  "It  spiled  my  day  to  think 
of  it,"  he  ses,  when  we  was  eatin'  our  pieces.  "So  I've 
fair  cried  dunghill  an'  run.  Mother'U  have  to  tackle 
him  by  herself.  I  lay  she  won't  give  him  no  hush- 
money,"  he  ses.  "I  lay  he'll  be  surprised  by  the  time 
he's  done  with  her,"  he  ses.  An'  that  was  e'en  a'most 
all  the  talk  we  had  concernin'  it.  But  he's  no  hunger 
with  the  toppin'  axe. 

*The  brook  she'd  crep'  up  an'  up  on  us,  an'  she  kep' 
creepin'  upon  us  till  we  was  workin'  knee-deep  in  the 
shallers,  cuttin'  an'  pookin'  an'  pullin'  what  we  could 
get  to  o'  the  rubbish.  There  was  a  middlin'  lot  comin' 
down-stream,  too — cattle-bars,  an'  hop-poles  and  odds- 
ends  bats,  all  poltin'  down  together;  but  they  rooshed 
round  the  elber  good  shape  by  the  time  we'd  backed 
out  they  drowned  trees.  Come  four  o'clock  we  reck- 
oned we'd  done  a  proper  day's  work,  an'  she'd  take  no 
harm  if  we  left  her.  We  couldn't  puddle  about  there 
in  the  dark  an'  wet  to  no  more  advantage.  Jim  he  was 
pourin'  the  water  out  of  his  boots — no,  I  was  doin'  that. 
Jim  was  kneeHn'  to  unlace  his'n.  "Damn  it  all,  Jesse," 
he  ses,  standin'  up;  "the  flood  must  be  over  my  doorsteps 
at  home,  for  here  comes  my  old  white-top  bee-skep!"' 


6o  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Yes.  I  alius  heard  he  paints  his  bee-skeps/  Jabez 
put  in.  *I  dunno  paint  don*t  tarrify  bees  more*n  it 
keeps  em*  dry.' 

*"ril  have  a  pook  at  it,"  he  ses,  an'  he  pooks  at  it 
as  it  comes  round  the  elber.  The  roosh  nigh  jerked 
the  pooker  out  of  his  hand-grips,  an'  he  calls  to  me, 
an*  I  come  runnin*  barefoot.  Then  we  pulled  on  the 
pooker,  an*  it  reared  up  on  eend  in  the  roosh,  an*  we 
guessed  what  'twas.  *Cardenly  we  pulled  it  in  into  a 
shaller,  an*  it  rolled  a  piece,  an*  a  great  old  stiff  man's 
arm  nigh  hit  me  in  the  face.  Then  we  was  sure. 
"  'Tis  a  man,"  ses  Jim.  But  the  face  was  all  a  mask. 
"I  reckon  it's  Mary's  Lunnon  father,"  he  ses  presently. 
"Lend  me  a  match  and  I'll  make  sure."  He  never 
used  baccy.  We  lit  three  matches  one  by  another, 
well's  we  could  in  the  rain,  an'  he  cleaned  off  some  o* 
the  slob  with  a  tussick  o'  grass.  "Yes,"  he  ses.  "It's 
Mary's  Lunnon  father.  He  won*t  tarrify  us  no  more. 
D  *you  want  him,  Jesse  ? "  he  ses. 

*"No,"  I  ses.  "If  this  was  Eastbourne  beach  like, 
he'd  be  half-a-crown  apiece  to  us  'fore  the  coroner; 
but  now  we'd  only  lose  a  day  havin'  to  'tend  the  in- 
quest.    I  lay  he  fell  into  the  brook." 

*"I  lay  he  did,**  ses  Jim.  "I  wonder  if  he  saw 
mother.'*  He  turns  him  over,  an'  opens  his  coat  and 
puts  his  fingers  in  the  waistcoat  pocket  an'  starts 
laughin*.  "He's  seen  mother,  right  enough,**  he  ses. 
"An*  he*s  got  the  best  of  her,  too.  She  won*t  be  able 
to  crow  no  more  over  me  'bout  givin'  him  money.  / 
never  give  him  more  than  a  sovereign.     She's  give  him 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  6i 

two!"  an'  he  trousers  'em,  laughin'  all  the  time.  "An* 
now  we'll  pook  him  back  again,  for  I've  done  with 
him,"  he  ses. 

*So  we  pooked  him  back  into  the  middle  of  the  brook, 
an'  we  saw  he  went  round  the  elber  'thout  balkin',  an' 
we  walked  quite  a  piece  beside  of  him  to  set  him  on  his 
ways.  When  we  couldn't  see  no  more,  we  went  home 
by  the  high  road,  because  we  knowed  the  brook  'u'd 
be  out  acrost  the  medders,  an'  we  wasn't  goin'  to  hunt 
for  Jim's  Httle  rotten  old  bridge  in  that  dark — an' 
rainin'  Heavens'  hard,  too.  I  was  middlin'  pleased 
to  see  light  an'  vittles  again  when  we  got  home.  Jim 
he  pressed  me  to  come  insides  for  a  drink.  He  don't 
drink  in  a  generality,  but  he  was  rid  of  all  his  troubles 
that  evenin',  d'ye  see?  "Mother,"  he  ses  so  soon  as 
the  door  ope'd,  "have  you  seen  him?"  She  whips  out 
her  slate  an'  writes  down — "No."  "Oh,  no,"  ses  Jim. 
"You  don't  get  out  of  it  that  way,  mother.  I  lay  you 
have  seen  him,  an'  I  lay  he's  bested  you  for  all  your  talk, 
same  as  he  bested  me.  Make  a  clean  breast  of  it, 
mother,"  he  ses.  "He  got  round  you  too."  She  was 
goin'  for  the  slate  again,  but  he  stops  her.  "It's  all 
right,  mother,"  he  ses.  "I've  seen  him  sense  you  have, 
an'  he  won't  trouble  us  no  more."  The  old  lady  looks 
up  quick  as  a  robin,  an'  she  writes,  "Did  he  say  so?" 
"No,"  ses  Jim,  laughin'.  "He  didn't  say  so.  That's 
how  I  know.  But  he  bested  you,  mother.  You  can't 
have  it  in  at  me  for  bein'  soft-hearted.  You're  twice  as 
tender-hearted  as  what  I  be.  Look!"  he  ses,  an'  he 
shows  her  the  two  sovereigns.     "Put  'em  away  where 


62  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

they  belong,"  he  ses.  "He  won't  never  come  for  no 
more;  an'  now  we'll  have  our  drink,"  he  ses,  "for  we've 
earned  it." 

'Nature-ally  they  weren't  goin'  to  let  me  see  where 
they  kep'  their  monies.  She  went  upstairs  with  it — for 
the  whisky.' 

*I  never  knowed  Jim  was  a  drinkin'  man — in  his 
own  house,  like,'  said  Jabez. 

'No  more  he  isn't;  but  what  he  takes  he  likes  good. 
He  won't  tech  no  publican's  hogwash  acrost  the  bar. 
Four  shillin's  he  paid  for  that  bottle  o'  whisky.  I 
know,  because  when  the  old  lady  brought  it  down  there 
wasn't  more'n  jest  a  liddle  few  dreenin's  an'  dregs  in  it. 
Nothin'  to  set  before  neighbours,  I  do  assure  you.' 

'"Why,  'twas  half  full  last  week,  mother,"  he  ses. 
"You  don't  mean,"  he  ses,  "you've  given  him  all  that 
as  well.?  It's  two  shillin's  worth,"  he  ses.  (That's 
how  I  knowed  he  paid  four.)  "Well,  well,  mother, 
you  be  too  tender- 'earted  to  live.  But  I  don't  grudge 
it  to  him,"  he  ses.  "I  don't  grudge  him  nothin'  he  can 
keep."  So,  'cardenly,  we  drinked  up  what  little  sup 
was  left.' 

*An'  what  come  to  Mary's  Lunnon  father?'  said  Jabez 
after  a  full  minute's  silence. 

*I  be  too  tired  to  go  readin'  papers  of  evenin's;  but 
Dockett  he  told  me,  that  very  week,  I  think,  that  they'd 
inquested  on  a  man  down  at  Robertsbridge  which  had 
poked  and  poked  up  agin'  so  many  bridges  an'  banks, 
like,  they  couldn't  make  naun  out  of  him.' 

'An'  what  did  Mary  say  to  all  these  doin's?' 


FRIENDLY  BROOK  63 

'The  old  lady  bundled  her  off  to  the  village  'fore 
her  Lunnon  father  come,  to  buy  week-end  stuff  (an' 
she  forgot  the  half  o'  it).  When  we  come  in  she  was 
upstairs  studyin'  to  be  a  school-teacher.  None  told 
her  naun  about  it.     'Twadn't  girls'  affairs.' 

*  'Reckon  she  knowed.?'  Jabez  went  on. 

*She?  She  must  have  guessed  it  middHn'  close  when 
she  saw  her  money  come  back.  But  she  never  men- 
tioned it  in  writing  so  far's  I  know.  She  were  more 
worritted  that  night  on  account  of  two-three  her  chickens 
bein'  drowned,  for  the  flood  had  skewed  their  old 
hen-house  round  on  her  postes.  I  cobbled  her  up 
next  mornin'  when  the  brook  shrinked.' 

*  An'  where  did  you  find  the  bridge  ?  Some  fur  down- 
stream, didn't  ye  ? ' 

*Just  where  she  alius  was.  She  hadn't  shifted  but 
very  little.  The  brook  had  gulled  out  the  bank  a  piece 
under  one  eend  o'  the  plank,  so's  she  was  liable  to  tilt 
ye  sideways  if  you  wasn't  careful.  But  I  pooked  three- 
four  bricks  under  her,  an'  she  was  all  plumb  again.' 

*  Well,  I  dunno  how  it  looks  like,  but  let  be  how  'twill,* 
said  Jabez,  *he  hadn't  no  business  to  come  down  from 
Lunnon  tarrifyin'  people,  an'  threatenin'  to  take  away 
children  which  they'd  bobbed  up  for  their  lawful  own — 
even  if  'twas  Mary  Wickenden.' 

*He  had  the  business  right  enough,  an'  he  had  the 
law  with  him — no  gettin'  over  that,'  said  Jesse.  *  But 
he  had  the  drink  with  him,  too,  an'  that  was  where  he 
failed,  like.' 

'Well,  well!    Let  be  how  'twill,  the  brook  was  a  good 


64  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

friend  to  Jim.  I  see  it  now.  I  alius  did  wonder  what 
he  was  gettin'  at  when  he  said  that,  when  I  talked  to 
him  about  shiftin'  the  stack.  "You  dunno  everythin'," 
he  ses.  "The  Brook's  been  a  good  friend  to  me,"  he 
ses,  "an'  if  she's  minded  to  have  a  snatch  at  my  hay, 
/  ain't  settin'  out  to  withstand  her."' 

*I  reckon  she's  about  shifted  it,  too,  by  now,'  Jesse 
chuckled.  'Hark!  That  ain't  any  slip  off  the  bank 
which  she's  got  hold  of.' 

The  Brook  had  changed  her  note  again.  It  sounded 
as  though  she  were  mumbling  something  soft. 


THE  LAND 

When  Julius  Fabriclus,  Sub-Prefect  of  the  Weald, 
In  the  days  of  Diocletian  owned  our  Lower  River-field, 
He  called  to  him  Hobdenius — a  Briton  of  the  Clay, 
Saying:     *What  about  that  River-piece  for  layin'  in 
to  hay?' 

And  the  aged  Hobden  answered:     *I  remember  as  a  lad 
My  father  told  your  father  that  she  wanted  dreenin' 

bad. 
An'  the  more  that  you  neeglect  her  the  less  you'll  get 

her  clean. 
Have  it  jest  as  youVe  a  mind  to,  but,  if  I  was  you,  Fd 

dreen.' 

So  they  drained  it  long  and  crossways  in  the  lavish 

Roman  style. 
Still  we  find  among  the  river-drift  their  flakes  of  ancient 

tile, 
And  in  drouthy  middle  August,  when  the  bones  of 

meadows  show. 
We  can  trace  the  Hnes  they  followed  sixteen  hundred 

years  ago. 

Then  Julius  Fabricius  died  as  even  Prefects  do. 
And  after  certain  centuries.  Imperial  Rome  died  too. 

^5 


66  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Then  did  robbers  enter  Britain  from  across  the  North- 
ern main 
And  our  Lower  River-field  was  won  by  Ogier  the  Dane. 

Well  could  Ogier  work  his  war-boat — ^well  could  Ogier 

wield  his  brand — 
Much  he  knew  of  foaming  waters — not  so  much  of 

farming  land. 
So  he  called  to  him  a  Hobden  of  the  old  unaltered 

blood. 
Saying:     *What  about  that  River-bit,  she  doesn't  look 

no  good  ? ' 

And  that  aged  Hobden  answered:     *  *Tain't  for  me  to 

interfere, 
But  IVe  known  that  bit  o'  meadow  now  for  five  and 

fifty  year. 
Have  it  jest  as  youVe  a  mind  to,  but  IVe  proved  it 

time  on  time, 
If  you  want  to  change  her  nature  you  have  got  to  give 

her  limeT 

Ogier  sent  his  wains  to  Lewes,  twenty  hours'  solemn 

walk, 
And  drew  back  great  abundance  of  the  cool,  grey, 

healing  chalk. 
And  old  Hobden  spread  it  broadcast,  never  heeding 

what  was  in't; 
Which  is  why  in  cleaning  ditches,  now  and  then  we 

find  a  flint. 


THE  LAND  67 

Ogier  died.     His  sons  grew  English.     Anglo-Saxon  was 

their  name, 
Till  out  of  blossomed  Normandy  another  pirate  came; 
For  Duke  William  conquered   England   and   divided 

with  his  men, 
And   our  Lower   River-field   he  gave   to  William   of 

Warenne. 

But  the  Brook  (you  know  her  habit)  rose  one  rainy 

Autumn  night 
And  tore  down  sodden  flitches  of  the  bank  to  left  and 

right. 
So,  said  William  to  his  Bailiff  as  they  rode  their  dripping 

rounds : 
*Hob,   what   about  that   River-bit — the   Brook's   got 

up  no  bounds?' 

And  that  aged  Hobden  answered:  "Tain't  my  busi- 
ness to  advise. 

But  ye  might  ha'  known  'twould  happen  from  the 
way  the  valley  lies. 

When  ye  can't  hold  back  the  water  you  must  try  and 
save  the  sile. 

Hev  it  jest  as  you've  a  mind  to,  but,  if  I  was  you,  I'd 
spile!' 

They  spiled   along  the  water-course  with   trunks   of 

willow-trees 
And  planks  of  elms  behind  'em  and  immortal  oaken 

knees. 


68  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

And  when  the  spates  of  Autumn  whirl  the  gravel-beds 

away 
You  can  see  their  faithful  fragments  iron-hard  in  iron  clay. 


Georgii  Quinti  Anno  Sexto,  I,  who  own  the  River-field, 
Am   fortified    with   title-deeds,    attested,    signed    and 

sealed, 
Guaranteeing  me,  my  assigns,  my  executors  and  heirs 
All  sorts  of  powers  and  profits  which — are  neither  mine 

nor  theirs. 

I  have  rights  of  chase  and  warren,  as  my  dignity  re- 
quires. 

I  can  fish — but  Hobden  tickles.  I  can  shoot — but 
Hobden  wires. 

I  repair,  but  he  reopens,  certain  gaps  which,  men  allege. 

Have  been  used  by  every  Hobden  since  a  Hobden 
swapped  a  hedge. 

Shall  I  dog  his  morning  progress  o'er  the  track- 
betraying  dew? 

Demand  his  dinner-basket  into  which  my  pheasant 
flew? 

Confiscate  his  evening  faggot  into  which  the  conies  ran. 

And  summons  him  to  judgment?  I  would  sooner 
summons  Pan. 

His  dead  are  in  the  churchyard — thirty  generations  laid. 
Their  names  went   down  in   Domesday   Book  when 
Domesday  Book  was  made. 


THE  LAND  69 

And  the  passion  and  the  piety  and  prowess  of  his  line 
Have  seeded,  rooted,  fruited  in  some  land  the  Law  calls 
mine. 

Not  for  any  beast  that  burrows,  not  for  any  bird  that 

flies, 
Would  I  lose  his  large  sound  council,  miss  his  keen 

amending  eyes. 
He  is  bailiff,  woodman,  wheelwright,   field-surveyor, 

engineer. 
And  if  flagrantly  a  poacher — 'tain't  for  me  to  interfere. 

*Hob,  what  about  that   River-bit?'     I  turn  to  him 

again 
With  Fabricius  and  Ogier  and  William  of  Warenne. 
'Hev  it  jest  as  you've  a  mind  to,  hut^ — and  so  he  takes 

command. 
For  whoever  pays  the  taxes  old  Mus'  Hobden  owns  the 

land. 


In  the  Same  Boat 
(1911) 

*A  THROBBING  Vein,'  said  Dr.  Gilbert  soothingly,  *is 
the  mother  of  delusion.' 

*Then  how  do  you  account  for  my  knowing  when  the 
thing  is  due  ? '     Conroy's  voice  rose  almost  to  a  break. 

*0f  course,  but  you  should  have  consulted  a  doctor 
before  using — palliatives.' 

*It  was  driving  me  mad.  And  now  I  can't  give  them 
up.' 

*  'Not  so  bad  as  that!  One  doesn't  form  fatal  habits 
at  twenty-five.  Think  again.  Were  you  ever  fright- 
ened as  a  child  ? ' 

*I  don't  remember.     It  began  when  I  was  a  boy.' 

*With  or  without  the  spasm?  By  the  way,  do  you 
mind  describing  the  spasm  again?' 

'Well,'  said  Conroy,  twisting  in  the  chair,  'I'm  no 
musician,  but  suppose  you  were  a  violin-string — vibrat- 
ing— and  some  one  put  his  finger  on  you?  As  if  a 
finger  were  put  on  the  naked  soul!     Awful!' 

*So's  indigestion — so's  nightmare — ^while  it  lasts.' 

*But  the  horror  afterwards  knocks  me  out  for  days. 
And  the  waiting  for  it  .  .  .  and  then  this  drug 
habit!  It  can't  go  on!'  He  shook  as  he  spoke,  and  the 
chair  creaked. 

71 


72  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*My  dear  fellow/  said  the  doctor,  *when  you're  older 
you'll  know  what  burdens  the  best  of  us  carry.  A  fox 
to  every  Spartan.' 

*That  doesn't  help  me.  I  can't!  I  can't!'  cried 
Conroy,  and  burst  into  tears. 

'Don't  apologise,'  said  Gilbert,  when  the  paroxysm 
ended.  'I'm  used  to  people  coming  a  little — unstuck 
in  this  room.' 

'It's  those  tabloids!'  Conroy  stamped  his  foot  feebly 
as  he  blew  his  nose.  'They've  knocked  me  out.  I 
used  to  be  fit  once.  Oh,  I've  tried  exercise  and  every- 
thing. But — if  one  sits  down  for  a  minute  when  it's 
due — even  at  four  in  the  morning — it  runs  up  behind 
one.' 

*Ye-es.  Many  things  come  in  the  quiet  of  the 
morning.  You  always  know  when  the  visitation  is 
due?' 

'What  would  I  give  not  to  be  sure!'  he  sobbed. 

'We'll  put  that  aside  for  the  moment.  I'm  thinking 
of  a  case  where  what  we'll  call  anaemia  of  the  brain  was 
masked  (I  don't  say  cured)  by  vibration.  He  couldn't 
sleep,  or  thought  he  couldn't,  but  a  steamer  voyage 
and  the  thump  of  the  screw ' 

'A  steamer?  After  what  I've  told  you!'  Conroy 
almost  shrieked.     'I'd  sooner     .     .     .' 

'Of  course  not  a  steamer  in  your  case,  but  a  long  rail- 
way journey  the  next  time  you  think  it  will  trouble 
you.     It  sounds  absurd,  but ' 

'I'd  try  anything.     I  nearly  have,'  Conroy  sighed. 

'Nonsense!     I've  given  you  a  tonic  that  will  clear 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  73 

that  notion  from  your  head.  Give  the  train  a  chance, 
and  don't  begin  the  journey  by  bucking  yourself  up 
with  tabloids.  Take  them  along,  but  hold  them  in 
reserve — in  reserve.' 

*D'you  think  IVe  self-control  enough,  after  what 
you've  heard?'  said  Conroy. 

Dr.  Gilbert  smiled.  *Yes.  After  what  I've  seen,' 
he  glanced  round  the  room,  *I  have  no  hesitation  in 
saying  you  have  quite  as  much  self-control  as  many 
other  people.  I'll  write  you  later  about  your  journey. 
Meantime,  the  tonic,'  and  he  gave  some  general  direc- 
tions before  Conroy  left. 

An  hour  later  Dr.  Gilbert  hurried  to  the  links,  where 
the  others  of  his  regular  week-end  game  awaited  him. 
It  was  a  rigid  round,  played  as  usual  at  the  trot,  for 
the  tension  of  the  week  lay  as  heavy  on  the  two  King's 
Counsels  and  Sir  John  Chartres  as  on  Gilbert.  The 
lawyers  were  old  enemies  of  the  Admiralty  Court,  and 
Sir  John  of  the  frosty  eyebrows  and  Abernethy  manner 
was  bracketed  with,  but  before,  Rutherford  Gilbert 
among  nerve-specialists. 

At  the  Club-house  afterwards  the  lawyers  renewed 
their  squabble  over  a  tangled  collision  case,  and  the 
doctors  as  naturally  compared  professional  matters. 

'Lies — all  lies,'  said  Sir  John,  when  Gilbert  had  told 
him  Conroy's  trouble.  'Post  hoc,  propter  hoc.  The 
man  or  woman  who  drugs  is  ipso  facto  a  liar.  You've 
no  imagination.' 

*'Pity  you  haven't  a  little — occasionally.' 

*I  have  believed  a  certain  type  of  patient  in  my  time. 


74  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

It's  always  the  same.  For  reasons  not  given  in  the 
consulting-room  they  take  to  the  drug.  Certain  symp- 
toms follow.  They  will  swear  to  you,  and  believe  it, 
that  they  took  the  drug  to  mask  the  symptoms.  What 
does  your  man  use?  Najdolene?  I  thought  so.  I  had 
practically  the  duplicate  of  your  case  last  Thursday. 
Same  old  Najdolene — same  old  lie.' 

*Tell  me  the  symptoms,  and  Fll  draw  my  own  in- 
ferences, Johnnie.' 

'Symptoms!  The  girl  was  rank  poisoned  with 
Najdolene.  Ramping,  stamping  possession.  Gad,  I 
thought  she'd  have  the  chandelier  down.' 

*Mine  came  unstuck  too,  and  he  has  the  physique 
of  a  bull,'  said  Gilbert.     'What  delusions  had  yours?' 

'Faces — faces  with  mildew  on  them.  In  any  other 
walk  of  life  we'd  call  it  the  Horrors.  She  told  me,  of 
course,  she  took  the  drugs  to  mask  the  faces.  Post  hoc, 
propter  hoc  again.     All  liars!' 

'What's  that?'  said  the  senior  K.C.  quickly. 
*  'Sounds  professional.' 

'Go  away!  Not  for  you,  Sandy.'  Sir  John  turned 
a  shoulder  against  him  and  walked  with  Gilbert  in  the 
chill  evening. 

To  Conroy  in  his  chambers  came,  one  week  later,  this 
letter: 

Dear  Mr.  Conroy — If  your  plan  of  a  night's  trip  on  the  17th 
still  holds  good,  and  you  have  no  particular  destination  in  view, 
you  could  do  me  a  kindness.  A  Miss  Henschil,  in  whom  I  am 
interested,  goes  down  to  the  West  by  the  10.8  from  Waterloo 
(Number  3  platform)  on  that  night.     She  is  not  exacdy  an  invalid, 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  7S 

but,  like  so  many  of  us,  a  little  shaken  in  her  nerves.  Her  maid, 
of  course,  accompanies  her,  but  if  I  knew  you  were  in  the  same 
train  it  would  be  an  additional  source  of  strength.  Will  you  please 
write  and  let  me  know  whether  the  1 0.8  from  Waterloo,  Number 
3  platform,  on  the  17th,  suits  you,  and  I  will  meet  you  there? 
Don't  forget  my  caution,  and  keep  up  the  tonic. — Yours  sincerely, 

L.  Rutherford  Gilbert. 


*He  knows  Tm  scarcely  fit  to  look  after  myself,' 
was  Conroy's  thought.  *And  he  wants  me  to  look 
after  a  woman!' 

Yet,  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour's  irresolution,  he  ac- 
cepted. 

Now  Conroy's  trouble,  which  had  lasted  for  years, 
was  this: 

On  a  certain  night,  while  he  lay  between  sleep  and 
wake,  he  would  be  overtaken  by  a  long  shuddering  sigh, 
which  he  learned  to  know  was  the  sign  that  his  brain 
had  once  more  conceived  its  horror,  and  in  time — in  due 
time — ^would  bring  it  forth. 

Drugs  could  so  well  veil  that  horror  that  It  shuffled 
along  no  worse  than  as  a  freezing  dream  in  a  procession 
of  disorderly  dreams;  but  over  the  return  of  the  event 
drugs  had  no  control.  Once  that  sigh  had  passed  his 
lips  tlie  thing  was  inevitable,  and  through  the  days 
granted  before  its  rebirth  he  walked  in  torment.  For 
the  first  two  years  he  had  striven  to  fend  it  off  by  dis- 
tractions, but  neither  exercise  nor  drink  availed.  Then 
he  had  come  to  the  tabloids  of  the  excellent  M.  Najdol. 
These  guarantee,  on  the  label,  *  Refreshing  and  abso- 
lutely  natural   sleep   to   the   soul-weary.'     They   are 


76  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

carried  in  a  case  with  a  spring  which  presses  one  scented 
tabloid  to  the  end  of  the  tube,  whence  it  can  be  lipped 
ofF  in  stroking  the  moustache  or  adjusting  the  veil. 

Three  years  of  M.  NajdoFs  preparations  do  not  fit 
a  man  for  many  careers.  His  friends,  who  knew  he  did 
not  drink,  assumed  that  Conroy  had  strained  his  heart 
through  valiant  outdoor  exercises,  and  Conroy  had 
with  some  care  invented  an  imaginary  doctor,  symptoms, 
and  regimen,  which  he  discussed  with  them  and  with 
his  mother  in  Hereford.  She  maintained  that  he 
would  grow  out  of  it,  and  recommended  nux  vomica. 

When  at  last  Conroy  faced  a  real  doctor,  it  was,  he 
hoped,  to  be  saved  from  suicide  by  a  strait-waistcoat. 
Yet  Dr.  Gilbert  had  but  given  him  more  drugs — a  tonic, 
for  instance,  that  would  couple  railway  carriages — 
and  had  advised  a  night  in  the  train.  Not  alone  the 
horrors  of  a  railway  journey  (for  which  a  man  who  dare 
keep  no  servant  must  e'en  pack,  label,  and  address  his 
own  bag),  but  the  necessity  for  holding  himself  in  hand 
before  a  stranger  *a  little  shaken  in  her  nerves.' 

He  spent  a  long  forenoon  packing,  because  when  he 
assembled  and  counted  things  his  mind  slid  ofF  to  the 
hours  that  remained  of  the  day  before  his  night,  and  he 
found  himself  counting  minutes  aloud.  At  such  times 
the  injustice  of  his  fate  would  drive  him  to  revolts 
which  no  servant  should  witness,  but  on  this  evening 
Dr.  Gilbert's  tonic  held  him  fairly  calm  while  he  put 
up  his  patent  razors. 

Waterloo  Station  shook  him  into  real  life.  The 
change  for  his  ticket  needed  concentration,  if  only  to 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  77 

prevent  shillings  and  pence  turning  into  minutes  at 
the  booking-office;  and  he  spoke  quickly  to  a  porter 
about  the  disposition  of  his  bag.  The  old  10.8  from 
Waterloo  to  the  West  was  an  all-night  caravan  that 
halted,  in  the  interests  of  the  milk  traffic,  at  almost  every 
station. 

Dr.  Gilbert  stood  by  the  door  of  the  one  composite 
corridor-coach;  an  older  and  stouter  man  behind  him. 
*So  glad  you're  here!'  he  cried.  *Let  me  get  your 
ticket.' 

*  Certainly  not,'  Conroy  answered.  *I  got  it  myself 
— long  ago.     My  bag's  in  too,'  he  added  proudly. 

*I  beg  your  pardon.  Miss  Henschil's  here.  I'll 
introduce  you.' 

*But — but,'  he  stammered — 'think  of  the  state  I'm 
in.     If  anything  happens  I  shall  collapse.' 

'Not  you.  You'd  rise  to  the  occasion  like  a  bird. 
And  as  for  the  self-control  you  were  talking  of  the 
other  day' — Gilbert  swung  him  round — 'look!' 

A  young  man  in  an  ulster  over  a  silk-faced  frock-coat 
stood  by  the  carriage  window,  weeping  shamelessly. 

*0h,  but  that's  only  drink,'  Conroy  said.  'I  haven't 
had  one  of  my — my  things  since  lunch.' 

'Excellent!'  said  Gilbert.  *I  knew  I  could  depend 
on  you.     Come  along.     Wait  for  a  minute,  Chartres.' 

A  tall  woman,  veiled,  sat  by  the  far  window.  She 
bowed  her  head  as  the  doctor  murmured  Conroy  knew 
not  what.  Then  he  disappeared  and  the  inspector 
came  for  tickets. 

'My  maid — next  compartment,'  she  said  slowly. 


78  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Conroy  showed  his  ticket,  but  in  returning  it  to  the 
sleeve-pocket  of  his  ulster  the  little  silver  Najdolene 
case  slipped  from  his  glove  and  fell  to  the  floor.  He 
snatched  it  up  as  the  moving  train  flung  him  into  his 
seat. 

*How  nice!*  said  the  woman.  She  leisurely  lifted 
her  veil,  unbottoned  the  first  button  of  her  left  glove, 
and  pressed  out  from  its  palm  a  Najdolene-case. 

*  Don't!'  said  Conroy,  not  realising  he  had  spoken. 

*I  beg  your  pardon.'  The  deep  voice  was  measured, 
even,  and  low.     Conroy  knew  what  made  it  so. 

*I  said  "don't"!     He  wouldn't  Hke  you  to  do  it!' 

*No,  he  would  not.'  She  held  the  tube  with  its 
ever-presented  tabloid  between  finger  and  thumb. 
*But  aren't  you  one  of  the — ah — "soul-weary"  too?' 

'That's  why.  Oh,  please  don't!  Not  at  first.  I — I 
haven't  had  one  since  morning.  You — you'll  set  me 
oflFl' 

'You?    Are  you  so  far  gone  as  that?' 

He  nodded,  pressing  his  palms  together.  The  train 
jolted  through  Vauxhall  points,  and  was  welcomed  with 
the  clang  of  empty  milk-cans  for  the  West. 

After  long  silence  she  lifted  her  great  eyes,  and,  with 
an  innocence  that  would  have  deceived  any  sound  man, 
asked  Conroy  to  call  her  maid  to  bring  her  a  forgotten 
book. 

Conroy  shook  his  head.  'No.  Our  sort  can't  read. 
Don't!' 

'Were  you  sent  to  watch  me?'  The  voice  never 
changed. 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  79 

*Me?  I  need  a  keeper  myself  much  more — this 
night  of  all ! ' 

'This  night?  Have  you  a  night,  then?  They  dis- 
believed me  when  I  told  them  of  mine.'  She  leaned 
back  and  laughed,  always  slowly.  *  Aren't  doctors 
stu-upid  ?     They  don't  know.' 

She  leaned  her  elbow  on  her  knee,  lifted  her  veil  that 
had  fallen,  and,  chin  in  hand,  stared  at  him.  He  looked 
at  her — ^till  his  eyes  were  blurred  with  tears. 

'Have  /  been  there,  think  you?'  she  said. 

'Surely — surely,'  Conroy  answered,  for  he  had  well 
seen  the  fear  and  the  horror  that  lived  behind  the 
heavy-lidded  eyes,  the  fine  tracing  on  the  broad  fore- 
head, and  the  guard  set  about  the  desirable  mouth. 

'Then — suppose  we  have  one — ^just  one  apiece? 
I've  gone  without  since  this  afternoon.' 

He  put  up  his  hand,  and  would  have  shouted,  but  his 
voice  broke. 

'Don't!  Can't  you  see  that  it  helps  me  to  help  you 
to  keep  it  off?     Don't  let's  both  go  down  together.' 

*But  I  want  one.  It's  a  poor  heart  that  never  re- 
joices.    Just  one.     It's  my  night.' 

'It's  mine — too.  My  sixty-fourth,  fifth,  sixth,  sev- 
enth.' He  shut  his  lips  firmly  against  the  tide  of  visual- 
ised numbers  that  threatened  to  carry  him  along. 

'Ah,  it's  only  my  thirty-ninth.'  She  paused  as  he 
had  done.  'I  wonder  if  I  shall  last  into  the  sixties. 
.  .  .  Talk  to  me  or  I  shall  go  crazy.  You're  a  man. 
You're  the  stronger  vessel.  Tell  me  when  you  went 
to  pieces.' 


8o  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven — eight — I  beg 
your  pardon.' 

*Not  in  the  least.  I  always  pretend  I've  dropped 
a  stitch  of  my  knitting.  I  count  the  days  till  the  last 
day,  then  the  hours,  then  the  minutes.     Do  you?' 

*I  don't  think  I've  done  very  much   else  for  the 

last '  said  Conroy,  shivering,  for  the  night  was  cold, 

with  a  chill  he  recognised. 

*0h,  how  comforting  to  find  some  one  who  can  talk 
sense!     It's  not  always  the  same  date,  is  it?' 

*What  difference  would  that  make?'  He  unbut- 
toned his  ulster  with  a  jerk.  *  You're  a  sane  woman. 
Can't  you  see  the  wicked — wicked — ^wicked'  (dust 
flew  from  the  padded  arm-rest  as  he  struck  it)  'un- 
fairness of  it?     What  have  I  done?' 

She  laid  her  large  hand  on  his  shoulder  very  firmly. 

*If  you  begin  to  think  over  that,'  she  said,  'you'll 
go  to  pieces  and  be  ashamed.  Tell  me  yours,  and  I'll 
tell  you  mine.  Only  be  quiet — be  quiet,  lad,  or  you'll 
set  me  off!'  She  made  shift  to  soothe  him,  though  her 
chin  trembled. 

'Well,'  said  he  at  last,  picking  at  the  arm-rest  be- 
tween them,  '  mine's  nothing  much,  of  course.' 

'Don't  be  a  fool!    That's  for  doctors — and  mothers.* 

'It's  Hell,'  Conroy  muttered.  'It  begins  on  a 
steamer — on  a  stifling  hot  night.  I  come  out  of  my 
cabin.  I  pass  through  the  saloon  where  the  stewards 
have  rolled  up  the  carpets,  and  the  boards  are  bare 
and  hot  and  soapy.' 

*  I've  travelled  too,'  she  said. 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  8i 

*  Ah !  I  come  on  deck.  I  walk  down  a  covered  alley- 
way. Butcher's  meat,  bananas,  oil,  that  sort  of 
smell.' 

Again  she  nodded. 

*It's  a  lead-coloured  steamer,  and  the  sea's  lead- 
coloured.  Perfectly  smooth  sea — perfectly  still  ship, 
except  for  the  engines  running,  and  her  waves  going 
off  in  lines  and  lines  and  lines — dull  grey.  All  this 
time  I  know  something's  going  to  happen.' 

*/  know.  Something  going  to  happen,'  she  whis- 
pered. 

'Then  I  hear  a  thud  in  the  engine-room.  Then  the 
noise  of  machinery  falling  down — like  fire-irons — and 
then  two  most  awful  yells.  They're  more  Hke  hoots, 
and  I  know — I  know  while  I  listen — that  it  means  that 
two  men  have  died  as  they  hooted.  It  was  their  last 
breath  hooting  out  of  them — in  most  awful  pain.  Do 
you  understand.'*' 

*I  ought  to.     Go  on.' 

'That's  the  first  part.  Then  I  hear  bare  feet  running 
along  the  alleyway.  One  of  the  scalded  men  comes 
up  behind  me  and  says  quite  distinctly,  "My  friend! 
All  is  lost!"  Then  he  taps  me  on  the  shoulder  and 
I  hear  him  drop  down  dead.'  He  panted  and  wiped 
his  forehead. 

*So  that  is  your  night?'  she  said. 

'That  is  my  night.  It  comes  every  few  weeks — so 
many  days  after  I  get  what  I  call  sentence.  Then  I 
begin  to  count.' 

*  Get  sentence  ?     D  'you  mean  this  ? '     She  half  closed 


82  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

her  eyes,  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  shuddered.  '"No- 
tice" I  call  it.     Sir  John  thought  it  was  all  lies.* 

She  had  unpinned  her  hat  and  thrown  it  on  the  seat 
opposite,  showing  the  immense  mass  of  her  black  hair, 
rolled  low  in  the  nape  of  the  columnar  neck  and  looped 
over  the  left  ear.  But  Conroy  had  no  eyes  except  for 
her  grave  eyes. 

'Listen  now!'  said  she.  'I  walk  down  a  road,  a 
white  sandy  road  near  the  sea.  There  are  broken 
fences  on  either  side,  and  Men  come  and  look  at  me 
over  them.' 

*Just  men?     Do  they  speak?' 

'They  try  to.  Their  faces  are  all  mildewy — eaten 
away,'  and  she  hid  her  face  for  an  instant  with  her  left 
hand.     'It's  the  Faces — the  Faces!' 

'Yes.     Like  my  two  hoots.     /  know.' 

'Ah!  But  the  place  itself — the  bareness — and  the 
glitter  and  the  salt  smells,  and  the  wind  blowing  the 
sand!  The  Men  run  after  me  and  I  run.  ...  I 
know  what's  coming  too.     One  of  them  touches  me.' 

'Yes !     What  comes  then  ?     We've  both  shirked  that.' 

'One  awful  shock — not  palpitation,  but  shock,  shock, 
shock!' 

'As  though  your  soul  were  being  stopped — as  you'd 
stop  a  finger-bowl  humming?'  he  said. 

'Just  that,'  she  answered.  'One's  very  soul — the 
soul  that  one  lives  by — stopped.     So!' 

She  drove  her  thumb  deep  into  the  arm-rest.  'And 
now,'  she  whined  to  him,  'now  that  we've  stirred  each 
other  up  this  way,  mightn't  we  have  just  one?' 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  83 

'No/  said  Conroy,  shaking.  *  Let's  hold  on.  We're 
past' — he  peered  out  of  the  black  windows — *  Woking. 
There's  the  Necropolis.     How  long  till  dawn?' 

*0h,  cruel  long  yet.  If  one  dozes  for  a  minute,  it 
catches  one.' 

'And  how  d'you  find  that  this' — he  tapped  the  palm 
of  his  glove — -*  helps  you  ? ' 

*It  covers  up  the  thing  from  being  too  real — if  one 
takes  enough — you  know.  Only — only — one  loses 
everything  else.  I've  been  no  more  than  a  bogie-girl 
for  two  years.  What  would  you  give  to  be  real  again  ? 
This  lying's  such  a  nuisance.' 

*One  must  protect  oneself — and  there's  one's  mother 
to  think  of,'  he  answered. 

*True.  I  hope  allowances  are  made  for  us  some- 
where. Our  burden — can  you  hear? — our  burden  is 
heavy  enough.' 

She  rose,  towering  into  the  roof  of  the  carriage. 
Conroy's  ungentle  grip  pulled  her  back. 

*Now  you  are  foolish.     Sit  down,'  said  he. 

*But  the  cruelty  of  it!  Can't  you  see  it?  Don't 
you  feel  it?     Let's  take  one  now — before  I ' 

*Sit  down!'  cried  Conroy,  and  the  sweat  stood  again 
on  his  forehead.  He  had  fought  through  a  few  nights, 
and  had  been  defeated  on  more,  and  he  knew  the  re- 
bellion that  flares  beyond  control  to  exhaustion. 

She  smoothed  her  hair  and  dropped  back,  but  for  a 
while  her  head  and  throat  moved  with  the  sickening 
motion  of  a  captured  wry-neck. 

*Once,'  she  said,  spreading  out  her  hands,  *I  ripped 


84  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

my  counterpane  from  end  to  end.  That  takes  strength. 
I  had  it  then.  I've  little  now.  "All  dorn,"  as  my 
little  niece  says.     And  you,  lad  ? ' 

'"All  dorn"!  Let  me  keep  your  case  for  you  till 
the  morning.' 

*  But  the  cold  feeling  is  beginning.' 

*Lend  it  me,  then.' 

'And  the  drag  down  my  right  side.  I  shan't  be 
able  to  move  in  a  minute.' 

*I  can  scarcely  lift  my  arm  myself,'  said  Conroy. 
*  We're  in  for  it.' 

'Then  why  are  you  so  foolish?  You  know  it'll  be 
easier  if  we  have  only  one — only  one  apiece.' 

She  was  lifting  the  case  to  her  mouth.  With  tremen- 
dous effort  Conroy  caught  it.  The  two  moved  like 
jointed  dolls,  and  when  their  hands  met  it  was  as  wood 
on  wood. 

*You  must — not!'  said  Conroy.  His  jaws  stiffened, 
and  the  cold  climbed  from  his  feet  up. 

*Why — must — I — not?'  She  repeated  the  words 
idiotically. 

Conroy  could  only  shake  his  head,  while  he  bore  down 
on  the  hand  and  the  case  in  it. 

Her  speech  went  from  her  altogether.  The  wonder- 
ful lips  rested  half  over  the  even  teeth,  the  breath  was 
in  the  nostrils  only,  the  eyes  dulled,  the  face  set  grey, 
and  through  the  glove  the  hand  struck  like  ice. 

Presently  her  soul  came  back  and  stood  behind  her 
eyes — only  thing  that  had  life  in  all  that  place — stood 
and  looked  for  Conroy's  soul.     He  too  was  fettered  in 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  85 

every  limb,  but  somewhere  at  an  immense  distance  he 
heard  his  heart  going  about  its  work  as  the  engine-room 
carries  on  through  and  beneath  the  all  but  overwhelm- 
ing wave.  His  one  hope,  he  knew,  was  not  to  lose  the 
eyes  that  clung  to  his,  because  there  was  an  Evil  abroad 
which  would  possess  him  if  he  looked  aside  by  a  hair- 
breadth. 

The  rest  was  darkness  through  which  some  distant 
planet  spun  while  cymbals  clashed.  (Beyond  Farn- 
borough  the  10.8  rolls  out  many  empty  milk-cans  at 
every  halt.)  Then  a  body  came  to  life  with  intolerable 
pricklings.  Limb  by  limb,  after  agonies  of  terror,  that 
body  returned  to  him,  steeped  in  most  perfect  physical 
weariness  such  as  follows  a  long  day's  rowing.  He  saw 
the  heavy  lids  droop  over  her  eyes — the  watcher  behind 
them  departed — and,  his  soul  sinking  into  assured 
peace,  Conroy  slept. 

Light  on  his  eyes  and  a  salt  breath  roused  him  without 
shock.  Her  hand  still  held  his.  She  slept,  forehead 
down  upon  it,  but  the  movement  of  his  waking  waked 
her  too,  and  she  sneezed  Hke  a  child. 

*I — I  think  it's  morning,'  said  Conroy. 

*And  nothing  has  happened!  Did  you  see  your 
Men?  I  didn't  see  my  Faces.  Does  it  mean  we've 
escaped  ?  Did — did  you  take  any  after  I  went  to  sleep  ? 
I'll  swear  /  didn't,'  she  stammered. 

*No,  there  wasn't  any  need.     We've  slept  through  it.' 

*No  need !  Thank  God !  There  was  no  need !  Oh,  look!' 

The  train  was  running  under  red  cliffs  along  a  sea- 
wall washed   by  waves  that  were  colourless  in  the 


86  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

early  light.  Southward  the  sun  rose  mistily  upon  the 
Channel. 

She  leaned  out  of  the  window  and  breathed  to  the 
bottom  of  her  lungs,  while  the  wind  wrenched  down  her 
dishevelled  hair  and  blew  it  below  her  waist. 

*Well!'  she  said  with  splendid  eyes.  'Aren't  you 
still  waiting  for  something  to  happen?' 

*No.  Not  till  next  time.  We've  been  let  off,'  Con- 
roy  answered,  breathing  as  deeply  as  she. 

*Then  we  ought  to  say  our  prayers.' 

*What  nonsense  I     Some  one  will  see  us.' 

*  We  needn't  kneel.  Stand  up  and  say  "Our  Father." 
We  must  I ' 

It  was  the  first  time  since  childhood  that  Conroy  had 
prayed.  They  laughed  hysterically  when  a  curve 
threw  them  against  an  arm-rest. 

*Now  for  breakfast!'  she  cried.  *My  maid — Nurse 
Blaber — has  the  basket  and  things.  It'll  be  ready 
in  twenty  minutes.  Oh!  Look  at  my  hairl*  and  she 
went  out  laughing. 

Conroy's  first  discovery,  made  without  fumbling 
or  counting  letters  on  taps,  was  that  the  London  and 
South  Western's  allowance  of  washing-water  is  inade- 
quate. He  used  every  drop,  rioting  in  the  cold  tingle 
on  neck  and  arms.  To  shave  in  a  moving  train  balked 
him,  but  the  next  halt  gave  him  a  chance,  which,  to 
his  own  surprise,  he  took.  As  he  stared  at  himself  in 
the  mirror  he  smiled  and  nodded.  There  were  points 
about  this  person  with  the  clear,  if  sunken,  eye  and  the 
almost  uncompressed  mouth.     But  when  he  bore  his 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  87 

bag  back  to  his  compartment,  the  weight  of  it  on  a  Hmp 
arm  humbled  that  new  pride. 

*My  friend,'  he  said,  half  aloud,  *you  go  into  training. 
You're  putty.' 

She  met  him  in  the  spare  compartment,  where  her 
maid  had  laid  breakfast. 

*By  Jovel'  he  said,  halting  at  the  doorway,  *I  hadn't 
realised  how  beautiful  you  were!' 

'The  same  to  you,  lad.  Sit  down.  I  could  eat  a 
horse.' 

*I  shouldn't,'  said  the  maid  quietly.  *The  less  you 
eat  the  better.'  She  was  a  small,  freckled  woman, 
with  light  fluffy  hair  and  pale-blue  eyes  that  looked 
through  all  veils. 

'This  is  Miss  Blaber,'  said  Miss  Henschil.  'He's 
one  of  the  soul-weary  too,  Nursey.' 

'I  know  it.  But  when  one  has  just  given  it  up  a  full 
meal  doesn't  agree.  That's  why  I've  only  brought 
you  bread  and  butter.' 

She  went  out  quietly,  and  Conroy  reddened. 

'We're  still  children,  you  see,'  said  Miss  Henschil. 
*But  I'm  well  enough  to  feel  some  shame  of  it.  D'you 
take  sugar?' 

They  starved  together  heroically,  and  Nurse  Blaber 
was  good  enough  to  signify  approval  when  she  came 
to  clear  away. 

'Nursey?'     Miss  Henschil  insinuated,  and  flushed. 

'Do  you  smoke?'  said  the  nurse  coolly  to  Conroy. 

'I  haven't  in  years.  Now  you  mention  it,  I  think 
I'd  like  a  cigarette — or  something.' 


88  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*1  used  to.  D'you  think  it  would  keep  me  quiet?* 
Miss  Henschil  said. 

*  Perhaps.  Try  these.'  The  nurse  handed  them  her 
cigarette-case. 

*  Don't  take  anything  else,'  she  commanded,  and 
went  away  with  the  tea-basket. 

*Good!'  grunted  Conroy,  between  mouthfuls  of 
tobacco. 

*  'Better  than  nothing,'  said  Miss  Henschil;  but  for  a 
while  they  felt  ashamed,  yet  with  the  comfort  of  children 
punished  together. 

*Now,'  she  whispered,  'who  were  you  when  you  were 
a  man?' 

Conroy  told  her,  and  in  return  she  gave  him  her 
history.  It  delighted  them  both  to  deal  once  more  in 
worldly  concerns — famihes,  names,  places,  and  dates — 
with  a  person  of  understanding. 

She  came,  she  said,  of  Lancashire  folk — ^wealthy 
cotton-spinners,  who  still  kept  the  broadened  a  and 
slurred  aspirate  of  the  old  stock.  She  lived  with  an 
old  masterful  mother  in  an  opulent  world  north  of 
Lancaster  Gate,  where  people  in  Society  gave  parties 
at  a  Mecca  called  the  Langham  Hotel. 

She  herself  had  been  launched  into  Society  there, 
and  the  flowers  at  the  ball  had  cost  eighty-seven 
pounds;  but,  being  reckoned  peculiar,  she  had  made 
few  friends  among  her  own  sex.  She  had  attracted 
many  men,  for  she  was  a  beauty — the  beauty,  in  fact, 
of  Society,  she  said. 

She  spoke  utterly  without  shame  or  reticence,  as 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  89 

a  life-prisoner  tells  his  past  to  a  fellow-prisoner;  and 
Conroy  nodded  across  the  smoke-rings. 

*Do  you  remember  when  you  got  into  the  carriage?' 
she  asked.  *(0h,  I  wish  I  had  some  knitting!)  Did 
you  notice  aught,  lad.^' 

Conroy  thought  back.  It  was  ages  since.  'Wasn't 
there  some  one  outside  the  door — crying?'  he  asked. 

*He's — he's  the  little  man  I  was  engaged  to,'  she  said. 
*But  I  made  him  break  it  ofF.  I  told  him  'twas  no 
good.     But  he  won't,  yo'  see.' 

^That  fellow?  Why,  he  doesn't  come  up  to  your 
shoulder.' 

'That's  naught  to  do  with  it.  I  think  all  the  world 
of  him.  I'm  a  foolish  wench' — her  speech  wandered  as 
she  settled  herself  cosily,  one  elbow  on  the  arm-rest. 
*We'd  been  engaged — I  couldn't  help  that — and  he 
worships  the  ground  I  tread  on.  But  it's  no  use.  Fm 
not  responsible,  you  see.  His  two  sisters  are  against 
it,  though  I've  the  money.  They're  right,  but  they 
think  it's  the  dri-ink,'  she  drawled.  'They're  Methody 
— the  Skinners.  You  see,  their  grandfather  that 
started  the  Patton  Mills,  he  died  o'  the  dri-ink.' 

*I  see,'  said  Conroy.  The  grave  face  before  him 
under  the  lifted  veil  was  troubled. 

'George  Skinner.'  She  breathed  it  softly.  'I'd 
make  him  a  good  wife,  by  God's  gra-ace — if  I  could. 
But  it's  no  use.  I'm  not  responsible.  But  he'll  not 
take  "No"  for  an  answer.  I  used  to  call  him  "Toots." 
He's  of  no  consequence,  yo'  see.' 

'That's  in   Dickens,'   said   Conroy,   quite  quickly. 


90  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*I  haven't  thought  of  Toots  for  years.  He  was  at 
Doctor  BHmber's.' 

'And  so — that's  my  trouble,'  she  concluded,  ever  so 
sHghtly  wringing  her  hands.  'But  I — don't  you  think 
— ^there's  hope  now?' 

*Eh?'  said  Conroy.  *0h  yes!  This  is  the  first  time 
I've  turned  my  corner  without  help.  With  your  help, 
I  should  say.' 

'It'll  come  back,  though.' 

'Then  shall  we  meet  it  in  the  same  way?  Here's 
my  card.     Write  me  your  train,  and  we'll  go  together.' 

'Yes.     We   must    do   that.     But   between   times — 

when  we  want '     She  looked  at  her  palm,  the  four 

fingers  working  on  it.     'It's  hard  to  give  'em  up.' 

'  But  think  what  we  have  gained  already,  and  let  me 
have  the  case  to  keep.' 

She  shook  her  head,  and  threw  her  cigarette  out  of 
the  window.     'Not  yet.' 

'Then  let's  lend  our  cases  to  Nurse,  and  we'll  get 
through  to-day  on  cigarettes.  I'll  call  her  while  we 
feel  strong.' 

She  hesitated,  but  yielded  at  last,  and  Nurse  accepted 
the  oflFerings  with  a  smile. 

'  You  II  be  all  right,'  she  said  to  Miss  Henschil. 
'But  if  I  were  you' — to  Conroy — 'I'd  take  strong 
exercise.' 

When  they  reached  their  destination  Conroy  set 
himself  to  obey  Nurse  Blaber.  He  had  no  remembrance 
of  that  day,  except  one  streak  of  blue  sea  to  his  left, 
gorse-bushes  to  his  right,   and,  before  him,   a  coast- 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  91 

guard's  track  marked  with  white-washed  stones  that 
he  counted  up  to  the  far  thousands.  As  he  returned 
to  the  little  town  he  saw  Miss  Henschil  on  the  beach 
below  the  cliffs.  She  kneeled  at  Nurse  Blaber's  feet, 
weeping  and  pleading. 

Twenty-five  days  later  a  telegram  came  to  Conroy's 
rooms:  ^Notice  given.  Waterloo  again.  Twenty^ 
fourth.*  That  same  evening  he  was  wakened  by  the 
shudder  and  the  sigh  that  told  him  his  sentence  had 
gone  forth.  Yet  he  reflected  on  his  pillow  that  he  had, 
in  spite  of  lapses,  snatched  something  like  three  weeks 
of  Hfe,  which  included  several  rides  on  a  horse  before 
breakfast — the  hour  one  most  craves  Najdolene;  five 
consecutive  evenings  on  the  river  at  Hammersmith 
in  a  tub  where  he  had  well  stretched  the  white  arms 
that  passing  crews  mocked  at;  a  game  of  rackets  at 
his  club;  three  dinners,  one  small  dance,  and  one  human 
flirtation  with  a  human  woman.  More  notable  still,  he 
had  settled  his  month's  accounts,  only  once  confusing 
petty  cash  with  the  days  of  grace  allowed  him.  Next 
morning  he  rode  his  hired  beast  in  the  park  victoriously. 
He  saw  Miss  Henschil  on  horse-back  near  Lancaster 
Gate,  talking  to  a  young  man  at  the  railings. 

She  wheeled  and  cantered  toward  him. 

*By  Jove!  How  well  you  look!'  he  cried,  without 
salutation.     *I  didn't  know  you  rode.' 

*I  used  to  once,'  she  replied.     'I'm  all  soft  now/ 

They  swept  off  together  down  the  ride. 

'Your  beast  pulls,'  he  said. 


92  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Wa-ant  him  to.  Gi-gives  me  something  to  think 
of.  How' ve  you  been?' she  panted.  *  I  wish  chemists' 
shops  hadn't  red  Hghts.' 

*Have  you  slipped  out  and  bought  some,  then?' 

*You  don't  know  Nursey.  Eh,  but  it's  good  to  be 
on  a  horse  again!    This  chap  cost  me  two  hundred.' 

*Then  you've  been  swindled,'  said  Conroy. 

*I  know  it,  but  it's  no  odds.  I  must  go  back  to 
Toots  and  send  him  away.  He's  neglecting  his  work 
for  me.' 

She  swung  her  heavy-topped  animal  on  his  none  too 
sound  hocks.     *  'Sentence  come,  lad  ?'' 

*Yes.     But  I'm  not  minding  it  so  much  this  time.' 

*  Waterloo,  then — and  God  help  us!'  She  thundered 
back  to  the  little  frock-coated  figure  that  waited  faith- 
fully near  the  gate. 

Conroy  felt  the  spring  sun  on  his  shoulders  and 
trotted  home.  That  evening  he  went  out  with  a  man 
in  a  pair  oar,  and  was  rowed  to  a  standstill.  But  the 
other  man  owned  he  could  not  have  kept  the  pace  five 
minutes  longer. 

He  carried  his  bag  all  down  Number  3  platform  at 
Waterloo,  and  hove  it  with  one  hand  into  the  rack. 

'Well  done!'  said  Nurse  Blaber,  in  the  corridor. 
'We've  improved  too.' 

Dr.  Gilbert  and  an  older  man  came  out  of  the  next 
compartment. 

'Hallo!'  said  Gilbert.  'Why  haven't  you  been  to 
see  me,  Mr.  Conroy?    Come  under  the  lamp.    Take 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  93 

ofF  your  hat.  No — no.  Sit,  you  young  giant.  Ve-ry 
good.     Look  here  a  minute,  Johnnie.* 

A  little,  round-bellied,  hawk-faced  person  glared  at 
him. 

'Gilbert  was  right  about  the  beauty  of  the  beast,' 
he  muttered.  'D'you  keep  it  in  your  glove  now?' 
he  went  on,  and  punched  Conroy  in  the  short  ribs. 

*No,'  said  Conroy  meekly,  but  without  coughing. 
'Nowhere — on  my  honour!     Fve  chucked  it  for  good.' 

*Wait  till  you  are  a  sound  man  before  you  say  that, 
Mr.  Conroy.'  Sir  John  Chartres  stumped  out,  saying 
to  Gilbert  in  the  corridor,  'It's  all  very  fine,  but  the 
question  is  shall  I  or  we  "Sir  Pandarus  of  Troy  be- 
come," eh  ?     We're  bound  to  think  of  the  children.' 

'Have  you  been  vetted?'  said  Miss  Henschil,  a  few 
minutes  after  the  train  started.  'May  I  sit  with  you? 
I — I  don't  trust  myself  yet.  I  can't  give  up  as  easily 
as  you  can,  seemingly.' 

'Can't  you?  I  never  saw  any  one  so  improved  in  a 
month.' 

'Look  here!'  She  reached  across  to  the  rack,  single- 
handed  lifted  Conroy's  bag,  and  held  it  at  arm's  length. 
*  I  counted  ten  slowly.  And  I  didn't  think  of  hours  or 
minutes,'  she  boasted. 

'Don't  remind  me,'  he  cried. 

'Ah!  Now  I've  reminded  myself.  I  wish  I  hadn't. 
Do  you  think  it'll  be  easier  for  us  to-night  ? ' 

'Oh,  don't.'  The  smell  of  the  carriage  had  brought 
back  all  his  last  trip  to  him,  and  Conroy  moved  uneasily. 

'I'm  sorry.     I've  brought  some  games,'  she  went  on. 


94  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  Draughts  and  cards — but  they  all  mean  counting. 
I  wish  Fd  brought  chess,  but  I  can't  play  chess.  What 
can  we  do?     Talk  about  something/ 

*Well,  how's  Toots,  to  begin  with?'  said  Conroy. 

*Why?     Did  you  see  him  on  the  platform?' 

*No.     Was  he  there?     I  didn't  notice.' 

*0h  yes.  He  doesn't  understand.  He's  desperately 
jealous.  I  told  him  it  doesn't  matter.  Will  you  please 
let  me  hold  your  hand?  I  believe  I'm  beginning  to  get 
the  chill.' 

'Toots  ought  to  envy  me,'  said  Conroy. 

*He  does.  He  paid  you  a  high  compliment  the  other 
night.  He's  taken  to  calling  again — in  spite  of  all  they 
say.' 

Conroy  inclined  his  head.  He  felt  cold,  and  knew 
surely  he  would  be  colder. 

^He  said,'  she  yawned.  *(Beg  your  pardon.)  He 
said  he  couldn't  see  how  I  could  help  falling  in  love  with 
a  man  like  you;  and  he  called  himself  a  damned  little 
rat,  and  he  beat  his  head  on  the  piano  last  night.' 

*The  piano?     You  play,  then?' 

'Only  to  him.  He  thinks  the  world  of  my  accom- 
plishments. Then  I  told  him  I  wouldn't  have  you  if 
you  were  the  last  man  on  earth  instead  of  only  the  best- 
looking — not  with  a  million  in  each  stocking.' 

*No,  not  with  a  million  in  each  stocking,'  said  Conroy 
vehemently.     *  Isn't  that  odd  ?  * 

'1  suppose  so — to  any  one  who  doesn't  know.  Well, 
where  was  I?  Oh,  George  as  good  as  told  me  I  was 
deceiving  him,  and  he  wanted  to  go  away  without  saying 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  95 

good-night.  He  hates  standing  a-tiptoe,  but  he  must 
if  I  won^t  sit  down/ 

Conroy  would  have  smiled,  but  the  chill  that  foreran 
the  coming  of  the  Lier-in-Wait  was  upon  him,  and  his 
hand  closed  warningly  on  hers. 

'And — and  so — '  she  was  trying  to  say,  when  her 
hour  also  overtook  her,  leaving  alive  only  the  fear- 
dilated  eyes  that  turned  to  Conroy.  Hand  froze  on 
hand  and  the  body  with  it  as  they  waited  for  the  horror 
in  the  blackness  that  heralded  it.  Yet  through  the 
worst  Conroy  saw,  at  an  uncountable  distance,  one 
minute  glint  of  light  in  his  night.  Thither  would  he 
go  and  escape  his  fear;  and  behold,  that  light  was  the 
light  in  the  watch-tower  of  her  eyes,  where  her  locked 
soul  signalled  to  his  soul:     'Look  at  me!' 

In  time,  from  him  and  from  her,  the  Thing  sheered 
aside,  that  each  soul  might  step  down  and  resume  its 
own  concerns.  He  thought  confusedly  of  people  on 
the  skirts  of  a  thunderstorm,  withdrawing  from  window^ 
where  the  torn  night  is,  to  their  known  and  furnished 
beds.  Then  he  dozed,  till  in  some  drowsy  turn  his  hand 
fell  from  her  warmed  hand. 

'That's  all.  The  Faces  haven't  come,'  he  heard  her 
say.  'AH — thank  God!  I  don't  feel  even  I  need  what 
Nursey  promised  me.     Do  you  ? ' 

'No.'  He  rubbed  his  eyes.  'But  don't  make  too 
sure.' 

'Certainly  not.  We  shall  have  to  try  again  next 
month.     I'm  afraid  it  will  be  an  awful  nuisance  for  you.' 

'Not  to  me,  I  assure  you/  said  Conroy,  and  they 


96  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

leaned  back  and  laughed  at  the  flatness  of  the  words, 
after  the  hells  through  which  they  had  just  risen. 

*And  now,'  she  said,  strict  eyes  on  Conroy,  ^why 
wouldn't  you  take  me^ — not  with  a  million  in  each 
stocking?' 

*  I  don't  know.     That's  what  I've  been  puzzling  over.' 

*So  have  I.  We're  as  handsome  a  couple  as  I've 
ever  seen.     Are  you  well  oflF,  lad?' 

'They  call  me  so,'  said  Conroy,  smiling. 

'That's  North  country.'  She  laughed  again.  'Set- 
ting aside  my  good  looks  and  yours,  I've  four  thousand 
a  year  of  my  own,  and  the  rents  should  make  it  six. 
That's  a  match  some  old  cats  would  lap  tea  all  night 
to  fettle  up.' 

*It  is.     Lucky  Toots!'  said  Conroy. 

*Ay,'  she  answered,  'he'll  be  the  luckiest  lad  in 
London  if  I  win  through.     Who's  yours?' 

'No — no  one,  dear.  I've  been  in  Hell  for  years. 
I  only  want  to  get  out  and  be  alive  and — so  on.  Isn't 
that  reason  enough?' 

'Maybe,  for  a  man.  But  I  never  minded  things  much 
till  George  came.     I  was  all  stu-upid  like.' 

'So  was  I,  but  now  I  think  I  can  Hve.  It  ought  to  be 
less  next  month,  oughtn't  it?'  he  said. 

'I  hope  so.  Ye-es.  There's  nothing  much  for  a 
maid  except  to  be  married,  and  /  ask  no  more.  Who- 
ever yours  is,  when  you've  found  her,  she  shall  have  a 
wedding  present  from  Mrs.  George  Skinner  that ' 

'But  she  wouldn't  understand  it  any  more  than 
Toots.' 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  97 

*He  doesn't  matter — except  to  me.  I  can't  keep 
my  eyes  open,  thank  God!     Good-night,  lad.' 

Conroy  followed  her  with  his  eyes.  Beauty  there 
was,  grace  there  was,  strength,  and  enough  of  the  rest 
to  drive  better  men  than  George  Skinner  to  beat  their 
heads  on  piano-tops — but  for  the  new-found  life  of  him 
Conroy  could  not  feel  one  flutter  of  instinct  or  emotion 
that  turned  to  herward.  He  put  up  his  feet  and  fell 
asleep,  dreaming  of  a  joyous,  normal  world  recovered — 
with  interest  on  arrears.  There  were  many  things  in  it, 
but  no  one  face  of  any  one  woman. 

Thrice  afterward  they  took  the  same  train,  and 
each  time  their  trouble  shrank  and  weakened.  Miss 
Henschil  talked  of  Toots,  his  multiplied  calls,  the 
things  he  had  said  to  his  sisters,  the  much  worse  things 
his  sisters  had  replied;  of  the  late  (he  seemed  very  dead 
to  them)  M.  Najdol's  gifts  for  the  soul-weary;  of  shop- 
ping, of  house  rents,  and  the  cost  of  really  artistic 
furniture  and  linen. 

Conroy  explained  the  exercises  in  which  he  delighted 
— mighty  labours  of  play  undertaken  against  other 
mighty  men,  till  he  sweated  and,  having  bathed,  slept. 
He  had  visited  his  mother,  too,  in  Hereford,  and  he 
talked  something  of  her  and  of  the  home-life,  which 
his  body,  cut  out  of  all  clean  life  for  five  years,  inno- 
cently and  deeply  enjoyed.  Nurse  Blaber  was  a 
little  interested  in  Conroy's  mother,  but,  as  a  rule, 
she  smoked  her  cigarette  and  read  her  paper-backed 
novels  in  her  own  compartment. 


98  A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

On  their  last  trip  she  volunteered  to  sit  with  them, 
and  buried  herself  in  The  Cloister  and  the  Hearth  while 
they  whispered  together.  On  that  occasion  (it  was 
near  Salisbury)  at  two  in  the  morning,  when  the  Lier- 
in-Wait  brushed  them  with  his  wing,  it  meant  no  more 
than  that  they  should  cease  talk  for  the  instant,  and 
for  the  instant  hold  hands,  as  even  utter  strangers  on 
the  deep  may  do  when  their  ship  rolls  underfoot. 

*But  still,'  said  Nurse  Blaber,  not  looking  up,  *I 
think  your  Mr.  Skinner  might  feel  jealous  of  all  this.' 

*It  would  be  difficult  to  explain,'  said  Conroy. 

*Then  you'd  better  not  be  at  my  wedding,'  Miss 
Henschil  laughed. 

'After  all  we've  gone  through,  too.  But  I  suppose 
you  ought  to  leave  me  out.     Is  the  day  fixed  ?'  he  cried. 

'Twenty-second  of  September — in  spite  of  both 
his  sisters.  I  can  risk  it  now.'  Her  face  was  glorious 
as  she  flushed. 

*My  dear  chap!'  He  shook  hands  unreservedly,  and 
she  gave  back  his  grip  without  flinching.  *I  can't  tell 
you  how  pleased  I  am ! ' 

'Gracious  Heavens!'  said  Nurse  Blaber,  in  a  new 
voice.  *0h,  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  forgot  I  wasn't  paid 
to  be  surprised.' 

'What  at?  Oh,  I  see!'  Miss  Henschil  explained  to 
Conroy.  'She  expected  you  were  going  to  kiss  me,  or 
I  was  going  to  kiss  you,  or  something.' 

'After  all  you've  gone  through,  as  Mr.  Conroy  said.' 

'But  I  couldn't,  could  you?'  said  Miss  Henschil,  with 
a  disgust  as  frank  as  that  on  Conroy 's  face,     'It  would 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  99 

be  horrible — horrible.  And  yet,  of  course,  you're 
wonderfully  handsome.  How  d'you  account  for  it, 
Nursey  ? ' 

Nurse  Blaber  shook  her  head.  *I  was  hired  to  cure 
you  of  a  habit,  dear.  When  you're  cured  I  shall  go  on 
to  the  next  case — that  senile-decay  one  at  Bourne- 
mouth I  told  you  about.' 

*And  I  shall  be  left  alone  with  George!  But  suppose 
it  isn't  cured,'  said  Miss  Henschil  of  a  sudden.  *  Sup- 
pose it  comes  back  again.  What  can  I  do.?  I  can't 
send  for  him  in  this  way  when  I'm  a  married  woman!' 
She  pointed  Hke  an  infant. 

'I'd  come,  of  course,'  Conroy  answered.  *But, 
seriously,  that  is  a  consideration.' 

They  looked  at  each  other,  alarmed  and  anxious,  and 
then  toward  Nurse  Blaber,  who  closed  her  book,  marked 
the  place,  and  turned  to  face  them. 

*Have  you  ever  talked  to  your  mother  as  you  have 
to  me?'  she  said. 

*No.  I  might  have  spoken  to  dad — but  mother's 
different.     What  d'you  mean?' 

*And  you've  never  talked  to  your  mother  either, 
Mr.  Conroy?' 

'Not  till  I  took  Najdolene.  Then  I  told  her  it  was 
my  heart.  There's  no  need  to  say  anything,  now  that 
I'm  practically  over  it,  is  there  ? ' 

*Not    if    it    doesn't    come    back,     but *     She 

beckoned  with  a  stumpy,  triumphant  finger  that  drew 
their  heads  close  together.  *You  know  I  always  go  in 
and  read  a  chapter  to  mother  at  tea,  child.' 


loo         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*I  know  you  do.  You're  an  angel.'  Miss  Henschil 
patted  the  blue  shoulder  next  her.  'Mother's  Church 
of  England  now/  she  explained.  *But  she'll  have  her 
Bible  with  her  pikelets  at  tea  every  night  like  the 
Skinners.' 

*It  was  Naaman  and  Gehazi  last  Tuesday  that  gave 
me  a  clue.  I  said  I'd  never  seen  a  case  of  leprosy,  and 
your  mother  said  she'd  seen  too  many.' 

'Where?     She  never  told  me,'  Miss  Henschil  began. 

*A  few  months  before  you  were  born — on  her  trip  to 
Australia — at  Mola  or  Molo  something  or  other.  It 
took  me  three  evenings  to  get  it  all  out.' 

*Ay — mother's  suspicious  of  questions,'  said  Miss 
Henschil  to  Conroy.  'She'll  lock  the  door  of  every 
room  she's  in,  if  it's  but  for  five  minutes.  She  was  a 
Tackberry  from  Jarrow  way,  yo'  see.' 

'She  described  your  men  to  the  life — men  with  faces 
all  eaten  away,  staring  at  her  over  the  fence  of  a  lepers' 
hospital  in  this  Molo  Island.  They  begged  from  her, 
and  she  ran,  she  told  me,  all  down  the  street,  back  to  the 
pier.  One  touched  her  and  she  nearly  fainted.  She's 
ashamed  of  that  still.* 

'  My  men  ?  The  sand  and  the  fences  ? '  Miss  Henschil 
muttered. 

'Yes.  You  know  how  tidy  she  is  and  how  she  hates 
wind.  She  remembered  that  the  fences  were  broken — 
she  remembered  the  wind  blowing.  Sand — sun — salt 
wind — fences — faces — I  got  it  all  out  of  her,  bit  by  bit. 
You  don't  know  what  I  know!  And  it  all  happened 
three  or  four  months  before  you  were  born.     There!' 


IN  THE  SAME  BOlUT  ioi 

Nurse  Blaber  slapped  her  knee' 1S\^A  Jitr  UttJe  I'^/di 
triumphantly. 

*  Would  that  account  for  it?'  Miss  Henschil  shook 
from  head  to  foot. 

'Absolutely.  I  don't  care  who  you  ask!  You  never 
imagined  the  thing.  It  was  laid  on  you.  It  happened 
on  earth  to  you  I  Quick,  Mr.  Conroy,  she's  too  heavy 
for  me!     I'll  get  the  flask.' 

Miss  Henschil  leaned  forward  and  collapsed,  as 
Conroy  told  her  afterwards,  like  a  factory  chimney. 
She  came  out  of  her  swoon  with  teeth  that  chattered  on 
the  cup. 

'No — no,'  she  said,  gulping.  'It's  not  hysterics. 
Yo'  see  I've  no  call  to  hev  'em  any  more.  No  call — no 
reason  whatever.  God  be  praised !  Can't  yo'  feel  I'm 
a  right  woman  now?' 

'Stop  hugging  me!'  said  Nurse  Blaber.  'You  don't 
know  your  strength.  Finish  the  brandy  and  water. 
It's  perfectly  reasonable,  and  I'll  lay  long  odds  Mr. 
Conroy's  case  is  something  of  the  same.  I've  been 
thinking ' 

'I  wonder '  said  Conroy,  and  pushed  the  girl  back 

as  she  swayed  again. 

Nurse  Blaber  smoothed  her  pale  hair.  'Yes.  Your 
trouble,  or  something  like  it,  happened  somewhere  on 
earth  or  sea  to  the  mother  who  bore  you.  Ask  her, 
child.    Ask  her  and  be  done  with  it  once  for  all.' 

'I  will,'  said  Conroy.  .  .  .  'There  ought  to 
be '    He  opened  his  bag  and  hunted  breathlessly. 

'Bless  you!    Oh,   God   bless   you,   Nurseyl'   Miss 


loi  .      A '.DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

;Hw6ibil 'Wsis  so5>bing.-  'You  don't  know  what  this 
means  to  me.     It  takes  it  all  ofF — from  the  beginning.' 

*But  doesn't  it  make  any  difference  to  you  now?' 
the  nurse  asked  curiously.  'Now  that  you're  rightfully 
a  woman?* 

Conroy,  busy  with  his  bag,  had  not  heard.  Miss 
Henschil  stared  across,  and  her  beauty,  freed  from  the 
shadow  of  any  fear,  blazed  up  within  her.  'I  see  what 
you  mean,'  she  said.  'But  it  hasn't  changed  anything. 
I  want  Toots.  He  has  never  been  out  of  his  mind  in 
his  Hfe — except  over  silly  me.' 

'It's  all  right,'  said  Conroy,  stooping  under  the  lamp, 
Bradshaw  in  hand.  *If  I  change  at  Templecombe — 
for  Bristol  (Bristol — Hereford — yes) — I  can  be  with 
mother  for  breakfast  in  her  room  and  find  out.' 

'Quick,  then,'  said  Nurse  Blaber.  'We've  passed 
GiUingham  quite  a  while.  You'd  better  take  some  of 
our  sandwiches.'  She  went  out  to  get  them.  Conroy 
and  Miss  Henschil  would  have  danced,  but  there  is  no 
room  for  giants  in  a  South-Western  compartment. 

'Good-bye,  good  luck,  lad.  Eh,  but  you've  changed 
already — like  me.  Send  a  wire  to  our  hotel  as  soon  as 
you're  sure,'  said  Miss  Henschil.  'What  should  I  have 
done  without  you?* 

'Or  I?'  said  Conroy.  'But  it's  Nurse  that's  saving 
us  really.' 

'Then  thank  her,'  said  Miss  Henschil,  looking  straight 
at  him.     'Yes,  I  would.     She'd  like  it.' 

When  Nurse  Blaber  came  back  after  the  parting  at 
Templecombe  her  nose  and  her  eyeUds  were  red,  but, 


IN  THE  SAME  BOAT  103 

for  all  that,  her  face  reflected  a  great  light  even  while 
she  sniffed  over  The  Cloister  and  the  Hearth. 

Miss  Henschil,  deep  in  a  house  furnisher's  catalogue, 
did  not  speak  for  twenty  minutes.  Then  she  said,  be- 
tween adding  totals  of  best,  guest,  and  servants*  sheets, 
*  But  why  should  our  times  have  been  the  same,  Nursey  ? ' 

'Because  a  child  is  born  somewhere  every  second  of 
the  clock,'  Nurse  Blaber  answered.  *And  besides  that, 
you  probably  set  each  other  off  by  talking  and  thinking 
about  it.     You  shouldn't,  you  know.' 

'Ay,  but  you've  never  been  in  Hell,'  said  Miss  Henschil. 

The  telegram  handed  in  at  Hereford  at  12.46  and 
delivered  to  Miss  Henschil  on  the  beach  of  a  certain 
village  at  2.7  ran  thus: 

^"Absolutely  confirmed.  She  says  she  remembers 
hearing  noise  of  accident  in  engine-room  returning  from 
India  eighty-five.^'^ 

'He  means  the  year,  not  the  thermometer,'  said 
Nurse  Blaber,  throwing  pebbles  at  the  cold  sea. 

'"And  two  men  scalded  thus  explaining  my  hoots. ^* 
(The  idea  of  telHng  me  that!)  "Subsequently  silly 
clergyman  passenger  ran  up  behind  her  calling  for  joke, 
'Friend,  all  is  lost,'  thus  accounting  very  words T* 

Nurse  Blaber  purred  audibly. 

'"She  says  only  remembers  being  upset  minute  or  two. 
Unspeakable  relief.  Best  love  Nursey,  who  is  jewel. 
Get  out  of  her  what  she  would  like  best.'*  Oh,  I  oughtn't 
to  have  read  that,'  said  Miss  Henschil. 

*It  doesn't  matter.  I  don't  want  anything,'  said 
Nurse  Blaber,  'and  if  I  did  I  shouldn't  get  it.' 


^HELEN  ALL   ALONE' 

There  was  darkness  under  Heaven 

For  an  hour's  space — 
Darkness  that  we  knew  was  given 

Us  for  special  grace. 
Sun  and  moon  and  stars  were  hid, 

God  had  left  His  Throne, 
When  Helen  came  to  me,  she  did, 

Helen  all  alone! 

Side  by  side  (because  our  fate 

Damned  us  ere  our  birth) 
We  stole  out  of  Limbo  Gate 

Looking  for  the  Earth. 
Hand  in  pulHng  hand  amid 

Fear  no  dreams  have  known, 
Helen  ran  with  me,  she  did, 

Helen  all  alone! 

When  the  Horror  passing  speech 

Hunted  us  along. 
Each  laid  hold  on  each,  and  each 

Found  the  other  strong. 
In  the  teeth  of  things  forbid 

And  Reason  overthrown, 
104 


*  HELEN  ALL  ALONE'  105 

Helen  stood  by  me,  she  did, 
Helen  all  alone! 


When,  at  last,  we  heard  the  Fires 

Dull  and  die  away, 
When,  at  last,  our  linked  desires 

Dragged  us  up  to  day, 
When,  at  last,  our  souls  were  rid 

Of  what  that  Night  had  shown, 
Helen  passed  from  me,  she  did, 

Helen  all  alone! 

Let  her  go  and  find  a  mate. 

As  I  will  find  a  bride, 
Knowing  naught  of  Limbo  Gate 

Or  Who  are  penned  inside. 
There  is  knowledge  God  forbid 

More  than  one  should  own. 
So  Helen  went  from  me,  she  did, 
Oh  my  soul,  be  glad  she  did! 

Helen  all  alone! 


The  Honours  of  War 

(1911) 

A  HOODED  motor  had  followed  mine  from  the  Guildford 
Road  up  the  drive  to  The  Infant's  ancestral  hall,  and 
had  turned  off  to  the  stables. 

'We're  having  a  quiet  evening  together.  Stalky's 
upstairs  changing.  Dinner's  at  7.15  sharp,  because 
we're  hungry.  His  room's  next  to  yours,'  said  The 
Infant,  nursing  a  cobwebbed  bottle  of  Burgundy. 

Then  I  found  Lieutenant-Colonel  A.  L.  Corkran, 
LA.,  who  borrowed  a  collar-stud  and  told  me  about  the 
East  and  his  Sikh  regiment. 

'And  are  your  subalterns  as  good  as  ever?'  I  asked. 

'Amazin' — simply  amazin'  !  All  I've  got  to  do  is  to 
find  'em  jobs.  They  keep  touchin'  their  caps  to  me  and 
askin'  for  more  work.  'Come  at  me  with  their  tongues 
hangin'  out.     /  used  to  run  the  other  way  at  their  age.' 

*And  when  they  err?'  said  I.  *I  suppose  they  do 
sometimes?' 

*Then  they  run  to  me  again  to  weep  with  remorse  over 
their  virgin  peccadilloes.  I  never  cuddled  my  Colonel 
when  I  was  in  trouble.     Lambs — positive  lambs!' 

*And  what  do  you  say  to  'em?* 

'Talk  to  'em  like  a  papa.  Tell  'em  how  I  can't  under- 
stand it,  an'  how  shocked  I  am,  and  how  grieved  their 

107 


io8         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

parents  '11  be;  and  throw  in  a  little  about  the  Army 
Regulations  and  the  Ten  Commandments.  'Makes 
one  feel  rather  a  sweep  when  one  thinks  of  what  one 
used  to  do  at  their  age.     D'you  remember ' 

We  remembered  together  till  close  on  seven  o'clock. 
As  we  went  out  into  the  gallery  that  runs  round  the  big 
hall,  we  saw  The  Infant,  below,  talking  to  two  deferen- 
tial well-set-up  lads  whom  I  had  known,  on  and  off,  in 
the  holidays,  any  time  for  the  last  ten  years.  One 
of  them  had  a  bruised  cheek,  and  the  other  a  weeping 
left  eye. 

*Yes,  that's  the  style,'  said  Stalky  below  his  breath. 
'They're  brought  up  on  lemon-squash  and  mobilisation 
text-books.  I  say,  the  girls  we  knew  must  have  been 
much  better  than  they  pretended  they  were;  for  I'll 
swear  it  isn't  the  fathers.' 

*But  why  on  earth  did  you  do  it?'  The  Infant  was 
shouting.     *You  know  what  it  means  nowadays.' 

*  Well,  sir,'  said  Bobby  Trivett,  the  taller  of  the  two, 
*Wontner  talks  too  much,  for  one  thing.  He  didn't 
join  till  he  was  twenty-three,  and,  besides  that,  he 
used  to  lecture  on  tactics  in  the  ante-room.  He  said 
Clausewitz  was  the  only  tactician,  and  he  illustrated  his 
theories  with  cigar-ends.     He  was  that  sort  of  chap,  sir.' 

'And  he  didn't  much  care  whose  cigar-ends  they  were,' 
said  Eames,  who  was  shorter  and  pinker. 

'And  then  he  would  talk  about  the  'Varsity,'  said 
Bobby.  *He  got  a  degree  there.  And  he  told  us  we 
weren't  intellectual.  He  told  the  Adjutant  so,  sir. 
He  was  just  that  kind  of  chap,  sir,  if  you  understand.' 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  109 

Stalky  and  I  backed  behind  a  tall  Japanese  jar  of 
chrysanthemums  and  listened  more  intently. 

*Was  all  the  Mess  in  it,  or  only  you  two?'  The  Infant 
demanded,  chewing  his  moustache. 

*The  Adjutant  went  to  bed,  of  course,  sir,  and  the 
Senior  Subaltern  said  he  wasn't  going  to  risk  his  com- 
mission— they're  awfully  down  on  ragging  nowadays  in 
the  Service — but  the  rest  of  us — er — attended  to  him,' 
said  Bobby. 

*Much?'  The  Infant  asked.  The  boys  smiled  dep- 
recatingly. 

*Not  in  the  ante-room,  sir,'  said  Eames.  'Then  he 
called  us  silly  children,  and  went  to  bed,  and  we  sat  up 
discussin',  and  I  suppose  we  got  a  bit  above  ourselves, 
and  we — er ' 

'Went  to  his  quarters  and  drew  him?'  The  Infant 
suggested. 

*  Well,  we  only  asked  him  to  get  out  of  bed,  and  we 
put  his  helmet  and  sword-belt  on  for  him,  and  we  sung 
him  bits  out  of  the  Blue  Fairy  Book — the  cram-book 
on  Army  organisation.  Oh  yes,  and  then  we  asked  him 
to  drink  old  Clausewitz's  health,  as  a  brother-tactician, 
in  milk-punch  and  Worcester  sauce,  and  so  on.  We 
had  to  help  him  a  little  there.  He  bites.  There  wasn't 
much  else  that  time;  but,  you  know,  the  War  Office  is 
severe  on  ragging  these  days.'  Bobby  stopped  with  a 
lop-sided  smile. 

'And  then,'  Eames  went  on,  'then  Wontner  said  we'd 
done  several  pounds'  worth  of  damage  to  his  furni- 


»^ 


no         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  Oh/  said  The  Infant,  *he's  that  kind  of  man,  is  he? 
Does  he  brush  his  teeth?' 

*0h  yes,  he's  quite  clean  all  over!'  said  Trivett;  'but 
his  father's  a  wealthy  barrister.' 

'Solicitor,'  Eames  corrected,  *  and  so  this  Mister  Wont- 
ner  is  out  for  our  blood.  He's  going  to  make  a  first- 
class  row  about  it — appeal  to  the  War  Office — court  of 
inquiry — spicy  bits  in  the  papers,  and  songs  in  the 
music-halls.     He  told  us  so.' 

'That's  the  sort  of  chap  he  is,'  said  Trivett.  'And 
that  means  old  Dhurrah-bags,  our  Colonel,  '11  be  put  on 
half-pay,  same  as  that  case  in  the  Scarifungers'  Mess; 
and  our  Adjutant  '11  have  to  exchange,  like  it  was  with 
that  fellow  in  the  73  rd  Dragoons,  and  there'll  be  misery 
all  round.  He  means  making  it  too  hot  for  us,  and  his 
papa  '11  back  him.' 

'Yes,  that's  all  very  fine,'  said  The  Infant;  'but  I 
left  the  Service  about  the  time  you  were  born,  Bobby. 
What's  it  got  to  do  with  me?' 

'  Father  told  me  I  was  always  to  go  to  you  when  I  was 
in  trouble,  and  you've  been  awfully  good  to  me  since 
he    .     .     / 

'  Better  stay  to  dinner.'  The  Infant  mopped  his  fore- 
head. 

'Thank  you  very  much,  but  the  fact  is '  Trivett 

halted. 

'This  afternoon,  about  four,  to  be  exact '  Eames 

broke  in. 

'We  went  over  to  Wontner's  quarters  to  talk  things 
over.     The  row  only  happened  last  night,  and  we  found 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  m 

him  writing  letters  as  hard  as  he  could  to  his  father — 
getting  up  his  case  for  the  War  Office,  you  know.  He 
read  us  some  of  'em,  but  Tm  not  a  good  judge  of  style. 
We  tried  to  ride  him  off  quietly — apologies  and  so  forth 
— but  it  was  the  milk-punch  and  mayonnaise  that 
defeated  us.' 

*Yes,  he  wasn't  taking  anything  except  pure  re- 
venge,' said  Eames. 

*He  said  he'd  make  an  example  of  the  regiment,  and 
he  was  particularly  glad  that  he'd  landed  our  Colonel. 
He  told  us  so.  Old  Dhurrah-bags  don't  sympathise 
with  Wontner's  tactical  lectures.     He  says  Wontner 

ought  to  learn   manners   first,   but  we  thought ' 

Trivett  turned  to  Eames,  who  was  less  a  son  of  the  house 
than  himself,  Eames's  father  being  still  alive. 

*Then,'  Eames  went  on,  *he  became  rather  noisome, 
and  we  thought  we  might  as  well  impound  the  cor- 
respondence'— he  wrinkled  his  swelled  left  eye — *and 
after  that,  we  got  him  to  take  a  seat  in  my  car.' 

*He  was  in  a  sack,  you  know,'  Trivett  explained.  'He 
wouldn't  go  any  other  way.     But  we  didn't  hurt  him.' 

'Oh  no!  His  head's  sticking  out  quite  clear,  and' — 
Eames  rushed  the  fence — 'we've  put  him  in  your  garage 
— er  pendente  lite/ 

*My  garage!'  Infant's  voice  nearly  broke  with  horror. 

'Well,  father  always  told  me  if  I  was  in  trouble, 
Uncle  George ' 

Bobby's  sentence  died  away  as  The  Infant  collapsed 
on  a  divan  and  said  no  more  than,  'Your  commissions!' 
There  was  a  long,  long  silence. 


112         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*What  price  your  latter-day  lime-juice  subaltern?' 
I  whispered  to  Stalky  behind  my  hand.  His  nostrils 
expanded,  and  he  drummed  on  the  edge  of  the  Japanese 
jar  with  his  knuckles. 

*  Confound  your  father,  Bobby!'  The  Infant  groaned. 
'Raggin's  a  criminal  offence  these  days.  It  isn't  as 
if ' 

*Come  on,'  said  Stalky.  'That  was  my  old  Line 
battalion  in  Egypt.  They  nearly  slung  old  Dhurrah- 
bags  and  me  out  of  the  Service  in  '85  for  ragging.'  He 
descended  the  stairs  and  The  Infant  rolled  appealing 
eyes  at  him. 

T  heard  what  you  youngsters  have  confessed,'  he 
began;  and  in  his  orderly-room  voice,  which  is  almost 
as  musical  as  his  singing  one,  he  tongue-lashed  those 
lads  in  such  sort  as  was  a  privilege  and  a  revelation  to 
listen  to.  Till  then  they  had  known  him  almost  as  a 
relative — we  were  all  brevet,  deputy,  or  acting  uncles 
to  The  Infant's  friends'  brood — a  sympathetic  elder 
brother,  sound  on  finance.  They  had  never  met 
Colonel  A.  L.  Corkran  in  the  Chair  of  Justice.  And 
while  he  flayed  and  rent  and  bhstered,  and  wiped  the 
floor  with  them,  and  while  they  looked  for  hiding-places 
and  found  none  on  that  floor,  I  remembered  (i)  the 
up-ending  of  *  Dolly'  Macshane  at  Dalhousie,  which 
came  perilously  near  a  court-martial  on  Second-Lieu- 
tenant Corkran;  (2)  the  burning  of  Captain  Parmilee's 
mosquito-curtains  on  a  hot  Indian  dawn,  when  the 
captain  slept  in  his  garden,  and  Lieutenant  Corkran, 
smoking,  rode  by  after  a  successful  whist  night  at  the 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  113 

club;  (3)  the  introduction  of  an  ekka  pony,  with  ekka 
attached,  into  a  brother  captain's  tent  on  a  frosty  night 
in  Peshawur,  and  the  removal  of  tent,  pole,  cot,  and 
captain  all  wrapped  in  chilly  canvas;  (4)  the  bath  that 
was  given  to  Elliot-Hacker  on  his  own  verandah — ^his 
lady-love  saw  it  and  broke  off  the  engagement,  which 
was  what  the  Mess  intended,  she  being  an  Eurasian — 
and  the  powdering  all  over  of  Elliot-Hacker  with  flour 
and  turmeric  from  the  bazaar. 

When  he  took  breath  I  realised  how  only  Satan  can 
rebuke  sin.     The  good  don't  know  enough. 

'Now,'  said  Stalky,  *get  out!  No,  not  out  of  the 
house.     Go  to  your  rooms.' 

'I'll  send  your  dinner,  Bobby,'  said  The  Infant. 
'Ipps!' 

Nothing  had  ever  been  known  to  astonish  Ipps,  the 
butler.  He  entered  and  withdrew  with  his  charges. 
After  all,  he  had  suffered  from  Bobby  since  Bobby's 
twelfth  year. 

'They've  done  everything  they  could,  short  of  mur- 
der,' said  The  Infant.  'You  know  what  this'U  mean  for 
the  regiment.  It  isn't  as  if  we  were  dealing  with  Sahibs 
nowadays.' 

'Quite  so.'  Stalky  turned  on  me.  'Go  and  release 
the  bagman,'  he  said. 

' 'Tisn't  my  garage,' I  pleaded.  'I'm  company.  Be- 
sides, he'll  probably  slay  me.  He's  been  in  the  sack 
for  hours.' 

'Look  here,'  Stalky  thundered — the  years  had  fallen 
from  us  both — 'is  your — am  I  commandin'  or  are  you? 


114         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

WeVe  got  to  pull  this  thing  off  somehow  or  other. 
Cut  over  to  the  garage,  make  much  of  him,  and  bring 
him  over.  He's  dining  with  us.  Be  quick,  you  dither- 
ing ass!' 

I  was  quick  enough;  but  as  I  ran  through  the  shrub- 
bery I  wondered  how  one  extricates  the  subaltern  of  the 
present  day  from  a  sack  without  hurting  his  feelings. 
Anciently,  one  slit  the  end  open,  taking  off  his  boots 
first,  and  then  fled. 

Imagine  a  sumptuously-equipped  garage,  half-filled 
by  The  Infant's  cobalt-blue,  grey-corded  silk  limousine 
and  a  mud-splashed,  cheap,  hooded  four-seater.  In 
the  back  seat  of  this  last,  conceive  a  fiery  chestnut  head 
emerging  from  a  long  oat-sack;  an  implacable  white 
face,  with  blazing  eyes  and  jaws  that  worked  cease- 
lessly at  the  loop  of  the  string  that  was  drawn  round  its 
neck.  The  effect,  under  the  electrics,  was  that  of  a 
demon  caterpillar  wrathfully  spinning  its  own  cocoon. 

*Good  evening!'  I  said  genially.  *Let  me  help  you 
out  of  that.'  The  head  glared.  *  We've  got  'em,'  I  went 
on.  *They  came  to  quite  the  wrong  shop  for  this  sort 
of  game — quite  the  wrong  shop.' 

'Game!'  said  the  head.  'We'll  see  about  that.  Let 
me  out.' 

It  was  not  a  promising  voice  for  one  so  young,  and, 
as  usual,  I  had  no  knife. 

'You've  chewed  the  string  so  I  can't  find  the  knot,' 
I  said  as  I  worked  with  trembling  fingers  at  the  cater- 
pillar's throat.  Something  untied  itself,  and  Mr. 
Wontner  wriggled  out,  collarless,  tieless,  his  coat  split 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  115 

half  down  his  back,  his  waistcoat  unbuttoned,  his 
watch-chain  snapped,  his  trousers  rucked  well  above  the 
knees. 

*  Where,'  he  said  grimly,  as  he  pulled  them  down,  'are 
Master  Trivett  and  Master  Eames?' 

*Both  arrested,  of  course,*  I  replied.  *Sir  George' — 
I  gave  The  Infant's  full  title  as  a  baronet — *is  a  Justice 
of  the  Peace.  He'd  be  very  pleased  if  you  dined  with 
us.  There's  a  room  ready  for  you.'  I  picked  up  the 
sack. 

'D'you  know,'  said  Mr.  Wontner  through  his  teeth — 
but  the  car's  bonnet  was  between  us,  'that  this  looks 
to  me  Hke — I  won't  say  conspiracy  yety  but  uncom- 
monly like  a  confederacy.' 

When  injured  souls  begin  to  distinguish  and  quaUfy, 
danger  is  over.     So  I  grew  bold. 

*  'Sorry  you  take  it  that  way,'  I  said.  'You  come  here 
in  trouble ' 

'My  good  fool,'  he  interrupted,  with  a  half-hysterical 
snort,  'let  me  assure  you  that  the  trouble  will  recoil  on 
the  other  men ! ' 

'As  you  please,'  I  went  on.  'Anyhow,  the  chaps  who 
got  you  into  trouble  are  arrested,  and  the  magistrate 
who  arrested  'em  asks  you  to  dinner.  Shall  I  tell  him 
you're  walking  back  to  Aldershot?' 

He  picked  some  fluff  ofF  his  waistcoat. 

Tm  in  no  position  to  dictate  terms  yet,'  he  said. 
'That  will  come  later.  I  must  probe  into  this  a  little 
further.  In  the  meantime,  I  accept  your  invitation 
without  prejudice-^if  you  understand  what  that  means.' 


ii6         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

I  understood  and  began  to  be  happy  again.  Sub- 
alterns without  prejudices  were  quite  new  to  me. 
*A11  right/  I  replied;  *if  you*ll  go  up  to  the  house,  FU 
turn  out  the  Hghts.' 

He  walked  off  stiffly,  while  I  searched  the  sack  and  the 
car  for  the  impounded  correspondence  that  Bobby  had 
talked  of.  I  found  nothing  except,  as  the  police  reports 
say,  the  trace  of  a  struggle.  He  had  kicked  half  the 
varnish  ofF  the  back  of  the  front  seat,  and  had  bitten 
the  leather  padding  where  he  could  reach  it.  Evidently 
a  purposeful  and  hard-mouthed  young  gentleman. 

*Well  done!'  said  Stalky  at  the  door.  'So  he  didn't 
slay  you.  Stop  laughing.  He's  talking  to  The  Infant 
now  about  depositions.  Look  here,  you're  nearest  his 
size.  Cut  up  to  your  rooms  and  give  Ipps  your  dinner 
things  and  a  clean  shirt  for  him.' 

*But  I  haven't  got  another  suit,'  I  said. 

*You!  I'm  not  thinking  of  you!  We've  got  to 
conciliate  him.  He's  in  filthy  rags  and  a  filthy  temper, 
and  he  won't  feel  decent  till  he's  dressed.  You're 
the  sacrifice.  Be  quick!  And  clean  socks,  remem- 
ber!' 

Once  more  I  trotted  up  to  my  room,  changed  into 
unseasonable  unbrushed  grey  tweeds,  put  studs  into  a 
clean  shirt,  dug  out  fresh  socks,  handed  the  whole 
garniture  over  to  Ipps,  and  returned  to  the  hall  just  in 
time  to  hear  Stalky  say,  'I'm  a  stockbroker,  but  I  have 
the  honour  to  hold  His  Majesty's  commission  in  a 
Territorial  battalion.'  Then  I  felt  as  though  I  might 
be  beginning  to  be  repaid. 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  117 

*I  have  a  very  high  opinion  of  the  Territorials  my- 
self/ said  Mr.  Wontner  above  a  glass  of  sherry.  (In- 
fant never  lets  us  put  bitters  into  anything  above 
twenty  years  old.)  'But  if  you  had  any  experience  of 
the  Service,  you  would  find  that  the  Average  Army 
Man ' 

Here  The  Infant  suggested  changing,  and  Ipps,  be- 
fore whom  no  human  passion  can  assert  itself,  led  Mr. 
Wontner  away. 

*Why  the  devil  did  you  tell  him  I  was  on  the  Bench?' 
said  Infant  wrathfully  to  me.  *  You  know  I  ain't  now. 
Why  didn't  he  stay  in  his  father's  office  ?  He's  a  raging 
blight!' 

'Not  a  bit  of  it,'  said  Stalky  cheerfully.  'He's  a 
little  shaken  and  excited.  Probably  Beetle  annoyed 
him  in  the  garage,  but  we  must  overlook  that.  We've 
contained  him  so  far,  and  I'm  going  to  nibble  round  his 
outposts  at  dinner.  All  you've  got  to  do.  Infant,  is 
to  remember  you're  a  gentleman  in  your  own  house. 
Don't  hop!  You'll  find  it  pretty  difficult  before  din- 
ner's over.  I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  at  all  from 
you,  Beetle.' 

*But  I'm  just  beginning  to  like  him,'  I  said.  *Do 
let  me  play!' 

'Not  till  I  ask  you.  You'll  overdo  it.  Poor  old 
Dhurrah-bags!    A  scandal  'ud  break  him  up!' 

*  But  as  long  as  a  regiment  has  no  say  as  to  who  joins 
It,  It's  bound  to  rag,'  Infant  began.  'Why — ^why,  they 
varnished  me  when  I  joined!'  He  squirmed  at  the 
thought  of  It. 


ii8         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Don't  be  owls!  We  ain't  discussing  principles! 
WeVe  got  to  save  the  court  of  inquiry  if  we  can/  said 
Stalky. 

Five  minutes  later — at  7.45  to  be  precise — we  four  sat 
down  to  such  a  dinner  as,  I  hold,  only  The  Infant's 
cook  can  produce,  with  wines  worthy  of  pontifical 
banquets.  A  man  in  the  extremity  of  rage  and  injured 
dignity  is  precisely  Hke  a  typhoid  patient.  He  asks  no 
questions,  accepts  what  is  put  before  him,  and  babbles 
in  one  key — very  often  of  trifles.  But  food  and  drink 
are  the  very  best  of  drugs.  I  think  it  was  Heidsieck 
Dry  Monopole  '92  — Stalky  as  usual  stuck  to  Burgundy 
— ^that  began  to  unlock  Mr.  Wontner's  heart  behind 
my  shirt-front.  Me  he  snubbed  throughout,  after  the 
Oxford  manner,  because  I  had  seen  him  in  the  sack, 
and  he  did  not  intend  me  to  presume;  but  to  Stalky 
and  The  Infant,  while  I  admired  the  set  of  my  dinner- 
jacket  across  his  shoulders,  he  made  his  plans  of  revenge 
very  clear  indeed.  He  had  even  sketched  out  some  of 
the  paragraphs  that  were  to  appear  in  the  papers,  and 
if  Stalky  had  allowed  me  to  speak,  I  would  have  told 
him  that  they  were  rather  neatly  phrased. 

*You  ought  to  be  able  to  get  whackin'  damages  out 
of  'em,  into  the  bargain,'  said  Stalky,  after  Mr.  Wontner 
had  outlined  his  position  legally. 

*My  de-ah  sir,'  Mr.  Wontner  apphed  himself  to  his 
glass,  *it  isn't  a  matter  that  gentlemen  usually  discuss, 
but,  I  assure  you,  we  Wontners ' — he  waved  a  well-kept 
hand — *do  not  stand  in  any  need  of  filthy  lucre.'  In 
the  next  three  minutes,  we  learned  exactly  what  his 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  119 

father  was  worth,  which,  as  he  pointed  out,  was  a  trifle 
no  man  of  the  world  dwelt  on.  Stalky  envied  aloud, 
and  I  delivered  my  first  kick  at  The  Infant's  ankle. 
Thence  we  drifted  to  education,  and  the  Average 
Army  Man,  and  the  desolating  vacuity — I  remember 
these  words — of  Army  Society,  notably  among  its 
womenkind.  It  appeared  there  was  some  sort  of 
narrow  convention  in  the  Army  against  mentioning  a 
woman's  name  at  Mess.  We  were  much  surprised  at 
this — Stalky  would  not  let  me  express  my  surprise — 
but  we  took  it  from  Mr.  Wontner,  who  said  we  might, 
that  it  was  so.  Next  he  touched  on  Colonels  of  the  old 
school,  and  their  cognisance  of  tactics.  Not  that  he 
himself  pretended  to  any  skill  in  tactics,  but  after  three 
years  at  the  'Varsity — none  of  us  had  had  a  'Varsity 
education — a  man  insensibly  contracted  the  habit  of 
clear  thinking.  At  least,  he  could  automatically  co- 
ordinate his  ideas,  and  the  jealousy  of  these  muddle- 
headed  Colonels  was  inconceivable.  We  would  under- 
stand that  it  was  his  duty  to  force  on  the  retirement  of 
his  Colonel,  who  had  been  in  the  conspiracy  against 
him;  to  make  his  Adjutant  resign  or  exchange;  and  to 
give  the  half-dozen  childish  subalterns  who  had  vexed 
his  dignity  a  chance  to  retrieve  themselves  in  other 
corps — ^West  African  ones,  he  hoped.  For  himself, 
after  the  case  was  decided,  he  proposed  to  go  on  living 
in  the  regiment,  just  to  prove — for  he  bore  no  maHce — 
that  times  had  changed,  nosque  mutamur  in  illis — if  we 
knew  what  that  meant.  Infant  had  curled  his  legs  out 
of  reach,  so  I  was  quite  free  to  return  thanks  yet  once 


120         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

more  to  Allah  for  the  diversity  of  His  creatures  in  His 
adorable  world. 

And  so,  by  way  of  an  eighty-year-old  Hqueur  brandy, 
to  tactics  and  the  great  General  Clausewitz,  unknown 
to  the  Average  Army  Man.  Here  The  Infant,  at  a 
whisper  from  Ipps — ^whose  face  had  darkened  like  a 
mulberry  while  he  waited — excused  himself  and  went 
away,  but  Stalky,  Colonel  of  Territorials,  wanted  some 
tips  on  tactics.  He  got  them  unbrokenly  for  ten  min- 
utes— ^Wontner  and  Clausewitz  mixed,  but  Wontner 
in  a  film  of  priceless  cognac  distinctly  on  top.  When 
The  Infant  came  back,  he  renewed  his  clear-spoken 
demand  that  Infant  should  take  his  depositions.  I 
supposed  this  to  be  a  family  trait  of  the  Wontners, 
whom  I  had  been  visualising  for  some  time  past  even 
to  the  third  generation. 

*But,  hang  it  all,  they're  both  asleep!'  said  Infant, 
scowling  at  me.     *Ipps  let  'em  have  the  '8i  port.' 

'Asleep!'  said  Stalky,  rising  at  once.  *I  don't  see 
that  makes  any  difference.  As  a  matter  of  form,  you'd 
better  identify  them.     I'll  show  you  the  way.' 

We  followed  up  the  white  stone  side-staircase  that 
leads  to  the  bachelors'  wing.  Mr.  Wontner  seemed 
surprised  that  the  boys  were  not  in  the  coal-cellar. 

*0h,  a  chap's  assumed  to  be  innocent  until  he's  proved 
guilty,'  said  Stalky,  mounting  step  by  step.  'How  did 
they  get  you  into  the  sack,  Mr.  Wontner?' 

'Jumped  on  me  from  behind — ^two  to  one,'  said  Mr. 
Wontner  briefly.  *  I  think  I  handed  each  of  them  some- 
thing first,  but  they  roped  my  arms  and  legs.' 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  121 

'And  did  they  photograph  you  in  the  sack?' 

'Good  Heavens,  noT  Mr.  Wontner  shuddered. 

'That's  lucky.  Awful  thing  to  live  down — a  photo- 
graph, isn't  it?'  said  Stalky  to  me  as  we  reached  the 
landing.     'I'm  thinking  of  the  newspapers,  of  course.' 

'Oh,  but  you  can  easily  have  sketches  in  the  illus- 
trated papers  from  accounts  supplied  by  eye-witnesses,' 
I  said. 

Mr.  Wontner  turned  him  round.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  honoured  me  by  his  notice  since  our  talk  in 
the  garage. 

'Ah,'  said  he,  'do  you  pretend  to  any  special  knowl- 
edge in  these  matters?' 

'I'm  a  journalist  by  profession,'  I  answered  simply 
but  nobly.  'As  soon  as  you're  at  Hberty,  I'd  like  to 
have  your  account  of  the  affair.' 

Now  I  thought  he  would  have  loved  me  for  this, 
but  he  only  replied  in  an  uncomfortable,  uncoming-on 
voice,  *0h,  you  would,  would  you?* 

'Not  if  it's  any  trouble,  of  course,'  I  said.  'I  can 
always  get  their  version  from  the  defendants.  Do 
either  of  'em  draw  or  sketch  at  all,  Mr.  Wontner?  Or 
perhaps  your  father  might ' 

Then  he  said  quite  hotly,  *I  wish  you  to  understand 
very  clearly,  my  good  man,  that  a  gentleman's  name 
can't  be  dragged  through  the  gutter  to  bolster  up  the 
circulation  of  your  wretched  sheet,  whatever  it  may 
be.' 

'It  is  '  I  named  a  journal  of  enormous  sales 

which  specialises  in  scholastic,  military,  and  other  scan- 


122         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

dais.  *I  don't  know  yet  what  it  can't  do,  Mr.  Wont- 
ner.' 

*  I  didn't  know  that  I  was  dealing  with  a  reporter ' 
said  Mr.  Wontner. 

We  were  all  halted  outside  a  shut  door.  Ipps  had 
followed  us. 

*But  surely  you  want  it  in  the  papers,  don't  you.?'  I 
urged.  'With  a  scandal  like  this,  one  couldn't,  in 
justice  to  the  democracy,  be  exclusive.  We'd  syndicate 
it  here  and  in  the  United  States.  I  helped  you  out  of 
the  sack,  if  you  remember.' 

*I  wish  to  goodness  you'd  stop  talking!'  he  snapped, 
and  sat  down  on  a  chair.  Stalky 's  hand  on  my  shoulder 
quietly  signalled  me  out  of  action,  but  I  felt  that  my 
fire  had  not  been  misdirected. 

*ril  answer  for  him,'  said  Stalky  to  Wontner,  in  an 
undertone  that  dropped  to  a  whisper.  I  caught — 
*Not  without  my  leave — dependent  on  me  for  market- 
tips,'  and  other  gratifying  tributes  to  my  integrity. 

Still  Mr.  Wontner  sat  in  his  chair,  and  still  we  waited 
on  him.  The  Infant's  face  showed  worry  and  heavy 
grief;  Stalky's,  a  bright  and  bird-Hke  interest;  mine  was 
hidden  behind  his  shoulders,  but  on  the  face  of  Ipps 
were  written  emotions  that  no  butler  should  cherish 
towards  any  guest.  Contempt  and  wrath  were  the 
least  of  them.  And  Mr.  Wontner  was  looking  full  at 
Ipps,  as  Ipps  was  looking  at  him.  Mr.  Wontner's 
father,  I  understood,  kept  a  butler  and  two  foot- 
men. 

*D'you  suppose  they're  shamming,  in  order  to  get 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  123 

off?'  he  said  at  last.  Ipps  shook  his  head  and  noise- 
lessly threw  the  door  open.  The  boys  had  finished 
their  dinner  and  were  fast  asleep — one  on  a  sofa,  one  in 
a  long  chair — their  faces  fallen  back  to  the  Hnes  of  their 
childhood.  They  had  had  a  wildish  night,  a  hard  day, 
that  ended  with  a  telling-ofF  from  an  artist,  and  the 
assurance  they  had  wrecked  their  prospects  for  life. 
What  else  should  youth  do,  then,  but  eat,  and  drink 
'81  port,  and  remember  their  sorrows  no  more? 

Mr.  Wontner  looked  at  them  severely,  Ipps  within 
easy  reach,  his  hands  quite  ready.  'Childish,'  said 
Mr.  Wontner  at  last.  *  Childish  but  necessary.  Er — 
have  you  such  a  thing  as  a  rope  on  the  premises,  and  a 
sack — two  sacks  and  two  ropes?  I'm  afraid  I  can't 
resist  the  temptation.  That  man  understands,  doesn't 
he,  that  this  is  a  private  matter?' 

*That  man,'  who  was  me,  was  off  to  the  basement 
like  one  of  Infant's  own  fallow-deer.  The  stables  gave 
me  what  I  wanted,  and  coming  back  with  it  through  a 
dark  passage,  I  ran  squarely  into  Ipps.  *Go  on!'  he 
grunted.  'The  minute  he  lays  hands  on  Master  Bobby, 
Master  Bobby's  saved.  But  that  person  ought  to  be 
told  how  near  he  came  to  being  assaulted.  It  was 
touch-and-go  with  me  all  the  time  from  the  soup  down, 
I  assure  you.' 

I  arrived  breathless  with  the  sacks  and  the  ropes. 
'They  were  two  to  one  with  me,'  said  Mr.  Wontner, 
as  he  took  them.     *  If  they  wake ' 

'We'll  stand  by,'  Stalky  replied.  'Two  to  one  is 
quite  fair.' 


124         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

But  the  boys  hardly  grunted  as  Mr.  Wontner  roped 
first  one  and  then  the  other.  Even  when  they  were  sHd 
into  the  sacks  they  only  mumbled,  with  rolling  heads, 
through  sticky  Hps,  and  snored  on. 

*Port?'  said  Mr.  Wontner  virtuously. 

'Nervous  exhaustion.  They  aren't  much  more  than 
kids,  after  all.     What's  next?'  said  Stalky. 

*I  want  to  take  'em  away  with  me,  please.' 

Stalky  looked  at  him  with  respect. 

*ril  have  my  car  round  in  five  minutes,'  said  The 
Infant.  'Ipps  '11  help  carry  'em  downstairs,'  and  he 
shook  Mr.  Wontner  by  the  hand. 

We  were  all  perfectly  serious  till  the  two  bundles  were 
dumped  on  a  divan  in  the  hall,  and  the  boys  waked  and 
began  to  realise  what  had  happened. 

*Yah!'  said  Mr.  Wontner,  with  the  simplicity  of 
twelve  years  old.  *  Who's  scored  now.?'  And  he  sat 
upon  them.  The  tension  broke  in  a  storm  of  laughter, 
led,  I  thmk,  by  Ipps. 

*  Asinine — absolutely  asinine!'  said  Mr.  Wontner, 
with  folded  arms  from  his  lively  chair.  But  he  drank 
in  the  flattery  and  the  fellowship  of  it  all  with  quite  a 
brainless  grin,  as  we  rolled  and  stamped  round  him, 
and  wiped  the  tears  from  our  cheeks. 

*Hang  it!'  said  Bobby  Trivett.     *  We're  defeated!' 

*By  tactics,  too,'  said  Eames.  *I  didn't  think  you 
knew  'em,  Clausewitz.  It's  a  fair  score.  What  are  you 
going  to  do  with  us  ? ' 

*Take  you  back  to  Mess,'  said  Mr.  Wontner. 

'Not  like  this?' 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  125 

*  Oh  no.  Worse — much  worse !  I  haven't  begun  with 
you  yet.     And  you  thought  you'd  scored !     Yah !' 

They  had  scored  beyond  their  wildest  dream.  The 
man  in  whose  hands  it  lay  to  shame  them,  their  Colonel, 
their  Adjutant,  their  Regiment,  and  their  Service,  had 
cast  away  all  shadow  of  his  legal  rights  for  the  sake  of  a 
common  or  bear-garden  rag — such  a  rag  as  if  it  came  to 
the  ears  of  the  authorities,  would  cost  him  his  com- 
mission. They  were  saved,  and  their  saviour  was  their 
equal  and  their  brother.  So  they  chaffed  and  reviled 
him  as  such  till  he  again  squashed  the  breath  out  of 
them,  and  we  others  laughed  louder  than  they. 

*Fall  in!'  said  Stalky  when  the  limousine  came  round. 
*This  is  the  score  of  the  century.  I  wouldn't  miss  it  for 
a  brigade!    We  shan't  be  long,  Infant!* 

I  hurried  into  a  coat. 

*Is  there  any  necessity  for  that  reporter-chap  to 
come  too?'  said  Mr.  Wontner  in  an  unguarded  whisper. 
*He  isn't  dressed  for  one  thing.' 

Bobby  and  Eames  wriggled  round  to  look  at  the 
reporter,  began  a  joyous  bellow,  and  suddenly  stopped. 

'What's  the  matter?'  said  Wontner  with  suspicion. 

*  Nothing,'  said  Bobby.  *I  die  happy,  Clausewitz.' 
Take  me  up  tenderly.' 

We  packed  into  the  car,  bearing  our  sheaves  with  us, 
and  for  half  an  hour,  as  the  cool  night-air  fanned  his 
thoughtful  brow,  Mr.  Wontner  was  quite  abreast  of 
himself.  Though  he  said  nothing  unworthy,  he  tri- 
umphed and  trumpeted  a  little  loudly  over  the  sacks. 
I  sat  between  them  on  the  back  seat,  and  applauded 


126         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

him  servilely  till  he  reminded  me  that  what  I  had  seen 
and  what  he  had  said  was  not  for  publication.  I  hinted, 
while  the  boys  plunged  with  joy  inside  their  trappings, 
that  this  might  be  a  matter  for  arrangement.  *Then 
a  sovereign  shan't  part  us,'  said  Mr.  Wontner  cheerily, 
and  both  boys  fell  into  lively  hysterics.  *I  don't  see 
where  the  joke  comes  in  for  you,'  said  Mr.  Wontner. 
*I  thought  it  was  my  little  jokelet  to-night.* 

*No,  Clausewitz,'  gasped  Bobby.  *Some  is,  but  not 
all.  I'll  be  good  now.  I'll  give  you  my  parole  till  we 
get  to  Mess.     I  wouldn't  be  out  of  this  for  a  fiver.' 

*Nor  me,'  said  Eames,  and  he  gave  his  parole  to 
attempt  no  escape  or  evasion. 

*Now,  I  suppose,'  said  Mr.  Wontner  largely  to  Stalky, 
as  we  neared  the  suburbs  of  Ash,  'you  have  a  good  deal 
of  practical  joking  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  haven't  you  ? ' 

*And  when  were  you  on  the  Stock  Exchange,  Uncle 
Leonard?'  piped  Bobby,  while  Eames  laid  his  sobbing 
head  on  my  shoulder. 

'I'm  sorry,'  said  Stalky,  *but  the  fact  is,  I  command  a 
regiment  myself  when  I'm  at  home.  Your  Colonel 
knows  me,  I  think.'  He  gave  his  name.  Mr.  Wontner 
seemed  to  have  heard  of  it.  We  had  to  pick  Eames  off 
the  floor,  where  he  had  cast  himself  from  excess  of 
delight. 

*0h.  Heavens!'  said  Mr.  Wontner  after  a  long  pause. 
*  What  have  I  done.?  What  haven't  I  done?'  We  felt 
the  temperature  in  the  car  rise  as  he  blushed. 

'You  didn't  talk  tactics,  Clausewitz?'  said  Bobby. 
*0h,  say  it  wasn't  tactics,  darling!' 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  127 

*It  was,'  said  Wontner. 

Eames  was  all  among  our  feet  again,  crying,  *If 
you  don't  let  me  get  my  arms  up,  I'll  be  sick.  Let's 
hear  what  you  said.     Tell  us.' 

But  Mr.  Wontner  turned  to  Stalky.  'It's  no  good 
my  begging  your  pardon,  sir,  I  suppose,'  he  said. 

'Don't  you  notice  'em,'  said  Stalky.  Mt  was  a  fair 
rag  all  round,  and  anyhow,  you  two  youngsters  haven't 
any  right  to  talk  tactics.  You've  been  rolled  up,  horse, 
foot,  and  guns.' 

*ril  make  a  treaty.  If  you'll  let  us  go  and  change 
presently,'  said  Bobby,  'I'll  promise  we  won't  tell  about 
you,  Clausewitz.  You  talked  tactics  to  Uncle  Len? 
Old  Dhurrah-bags  will  like  that.  He  don't  love  you, 
Claus.' 

*If  I've  made  one  ass  of  myself,  I  shall  take  extra 
care  to  make  asses  of  you!'  said  Wontner.  *I  want  to 
stop,  please,  at  the  next  milliner's  shop  on  the  right. 
It  ought  to  be  close  here.' 

He  evidently  knew  the  country  even  in  the  dark,  for 
the  car  stopped  at  a  brilliantly-lighted  milHnery  estab- 
lishment, where — it  was  Saturday  evening — a  young 
lady  was  clearing  up  the  counter.  I  followed  him,  as  a 
good  reporter  should. 

'Have  you  got '  he  began.     'Ah,  those  '11  do!' 

He  pointed  to  two  hairy  plush  beehive  bonnets,  one 
magenta,  the  other  a  conscientious  electric  blue.  '  How 
much,  please.?  I'll  take  them  both,  and  that  bunch  of 
peacock  feathers,  and  that  red  feather  thing.'  It  was  a 
brilliant  crimson-dyed  pigeon's  wing. 


128         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Now  I  want  some  yards  of  muslin  with  a  nice,  fierce 
pattern,  please/  He  got  it — yellow  with  black  tulips — 
and  returned  heavily  laden. 

*  Sorry  to  have  kept  you,'  said  he.  'Now  we'll  go 
to  my  quarters  to  change  and  beautify.' 

We  came  to  them — opposite  a  dun  waste  of  parade- 
ground  that  might  have  been  Mian  Mir — and  bugles  as 
they  blew  and  drums  as  they  rolled  set  heart-strings 
echoing. 

We  hoisted  the  boys  out  and  arranged  them  on  chairs, 
while  Wontner  changed  into  uniform,  but  stopped  when 
he  saw  me  taking  off  my  jacket. 

*What  on  earth's  that  for?'  said  he. 

'Because  you've  been  wearing  my  evening  things,'  I 
said.     *  I  want  to  get  into  'em  again,  if  you  don't  mind.' 

'Then  you  aren't  a  reporter?'  he  said. 

'No,'  I  said,  'but  that  shan't  part  us.' 

'Oh,  hurry!'  cried  Eames  in  desperate  convulsions. 
'We  can't  stand  this  much  longer.  'Tisn't  fair  on  the 
young.' 

'I'll  attend  to  you  in  good  time,'  said  Wontner;  and 
when  he  had  made  careful  toilet,  he  unwrapped  the 
bonnets,  put  the  peacock's  feather  into  the  magenta  one, 
pinned  the  crimson  wing  on  the  blue  one,  set  them 
daintily  on  the  boys'  heads,  and  bade  them  admire  the 
effect  in  his  shaving-glass  while  he  ripped  the  muslin 
into  lengths,  bound  it  first,  and  draped  it  artistically 
afterwards  a  little  below  their  knees.  He  finished  off 
with  a  gigantic  sash-bow,  obi  fashion.  'Hobble  skirts,' 
he  explained  to  Stalky,  who  nodded  approval. 


THE  HONOURS  OF  WAR  129 

Next  he  split  open  the  bottom  of  each  sack  so  that 
they  could  walk,  but  with  very  short  steps.  *I  ought 
to  have  got  you  white  satin  slippers,'  he  murmured, 
*and  Fm  sorry  there's  no  rouge.' 

*  Don't  worry  on  our  account,  old  man — ^you're 
doing  us  proud,'  said  Bobby  from  under  his  hat.  *This 
beats  milk-punch  and  mayonnaise.' 

*0h,  why  didn't  we  think  of  these  things  when  we 
had  him  at  our  mercy?'  Eames  wailed.  'Never  mind — 
we'll  try  it  on  the  next  chap.     You've  a  mind,  Claus.' 

'Now  we'll  call  on  'em  at  Mess,'  said  Wontner,  as 
they  minced  towards  the  door. 

*I  think  I'll  call  on  your  Colonel,'  said  Stalky. 
'He  oughtn't  to  miss  this.  Your  first  attempt?  I  as- 
sure you  I  couldn't  have  done  it  better  myself.  Thank 
you!'     He  held  out  his  hand. 

'Thank  you,  sir!'  said  Wontner,  shaking  it.  'I'm 
more  grateful  to  you  than  I  can  say,  and — and  I'd  like 
you  to  believe  some  time  that  I'm  not  quite  as  big 
a ' 

'Not  in  the  least,'  Stalky  interrupted.  'If  I  were 
writing  a  confidential  report  on  you,  I  should  put  you 
down  as  rather  adequate.  Look  after  your  geishas, 
or  they'll  fall!' 

We  watched  the  three  cross  the  road  and  disappear 
into  the  shadow  of  the  Mess  verandah.  There  was  a 
noise.  Then  telephone  bells  rang,  a  sergeant  and  a 
Mess  waiter  charged  out,  and  the  noise  grew,  till  at  last 
the  Mess  was  a  Httle  noisy. 

We   came   back,   ten   minutes   later,   with   Colonel 


I30         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Dalziell,  who  had  been  taking  his  sorrows  to  bed  with 
him.  The  ante-room  was  quite  full  and  visitors  were 
still  arriving,  but  it  was  possible  to  hear  oneself  speak 
occasionally.  Trivett  and  Eames,  in  sack  and  sash, 
sat  side  by  side  on  a  table,  their  hats  at  a  ravishing 
angle,  coquettishly  twiddling  their  tied  feet.  In  the 
intervals  of  singing  *Put  Me  Among  the  Girls,'  they 
sipped  whisky-and-soda  held  to  their  lips  by,  I  regret 
to  say,  a  Major.  Public  opinion  seemed  to  be  against 
allowing  them  to  change  their  costume  till  they  should 
have  danced  in  it.  Wontner,  lying  more  or  less  grace- 
fully at  the  level  of  the  chandelier  in  the  arms  of  six 
subalterns,  was  lecturing  on  tactics  and  imploring  to 
be  let  down,  which  he  was  with  a  run  when  they  realised 
that  the  Colonel  was  there.  Then  he  picked  himself 
up  from  the  sofa  and  said:  *I  want  to  apologise,  sir, 
to  you  and  the  Mess  for  having  been  such  an  ass  ever 
since  I  joined!' 

This  was  when  the  noise  began. 

Seeing  the  night  promised  to  be  wet,  Stalky  and 
I  went  home  again  in  The  Infant's  car.  It  was  some 
time  since  we  had  tasted  the  hot  air  that  lies  between 
the  cornice  and  the  ceiling  of  crowded  rooms. 

After  half  an  hour's  silence,  Stalky  said  to  me:  *I 
don't  know  what  you've  been  doing,  but  I  believe  I've 
been  weepin'.  Would  you  put  that  down  to  Burgundy 
or  senile  decay?' 


THE  CHILDREN 

These  were  our  children  who  died  for  our  lands:  they 
were  dear  in  our  sight. 
We  have  only  the  memory  left  of  their  home-treasured 

sayings  and  laughter. 
The  price  of  our  loss  shall  be  paid  to  our  hands,  not 
another's  hereafter. 
Neither  the  Alien  nor  Priest  shall  decide  on  it.     That  is 
our  right. 

But  who  shall  return  us  the  children  ? 

At  the  hour  the  Barbarian  chose  to  disclose  his  pre- 
tences, 
And  raged  against  Man,  they  engaged,  on  the  breasts 

that  they  bared  for  us. 
The  first  felon-stroke  of  the  sword  he  had  long-time 
prepared  for  us — 
Their  bodies  were  all  our  defence  while  we  wrought 
our  defences. 

They  bought  us  anew  with  their  blood,  forbearing  to 

blame  us. 
Those  hours  which  we  had  not  made  good  when  the 

Judgment  overcame  us. 
They  believed  us  and  perished  for  it.     Our  statecraft, 

our  learning 

131 


132         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Delivered  them  bound  to  the  Pit  and  alive  to  the 

burning 
Whither    they    mirthfully    hastened    as    jostling    for 

honour. 
Not  since  her  birth  has  our  Earth  seen  such  worth 

loosed  upon  her. 

Nor  was  their  agony  brief,  or  once  only  imposed  on 
them. 
The  wounded,  the  war-spent,  the  sick  received  no 

exemption : 
Being  cured  they  returned  and  endured  and  achieved 
our  redemption. 
Hopeless  themselves  of  relief,  till  Death,  marvelling, 
closed  on  them. 

That  flesh  we  had  nursed  from  the  first  in  all  cleanness 
was  given 

To  corruption  unveiled  and  assailed  by  the  malice  of 
Heaven — 

By  the  heart-shaking  jests  of  Decay  where  it  lolled  on 
the  wires — 

To  be  blanched  or  gay-painted  by  fumes — to  be  cin- 
dered by  fires — 

To  be  senselessly  tossed  and  retossed  in  stale  mutila- 
tion 

From  crater  to  crater.     For  this  we  shall  take  expia- 
tion. 

But  who  shall  return  us  our  children  ? 


The  Dog  Hervey 

(April  1 914) 

My  friend  Attley,  who  would  give  away  his  own  head 
if  you  told  him  you  had  lost  yours,  was  giving  away  a 
six-months-old  litter  of  Bettina's  pups,  and  half-a- 
dozen  women  were  in  raptures  at  the  show  on  Mittleham 
lawn. 

We  picked  by  lot.  Mrs.  Godfrey  drew  first  choice; 
her  married  daughter,  second.  I  was  third,  but  waived 
my  right  because  I  was  already  owned  by  Malachi, 
Bettina's  full  brother,  whom  I  had  brought  over  in  the 
car  to  visit  his  nephews  and  nieces,  and  he  would  have 
slain  them  all  if  I  had  taken  home  one.  Milly,  Mrs. 
Godfrey's  younger  daughter,  pounced  on  my  rejection 
with  squeals  of  delight,  and  Attley  turned  to  a  dark, 
sallow-skinned,  slack-mouthed  girl,  who  had  come  over 
for  tennis,  and  invited  her  to  pick.  She  put  on  a 
pince-nez  that  made  her  look  like  a  camel,  knelt 
clumsily,  for  she  was  long  from  the  hip  to  the  knee, 
breathed  hard,  and  considered  the  last  couple. 

*I  think  Fd  like  that  sandy-pied  one,'  she  said. 

*0h,  not  him.  Miss  SichlifFe!'  Attley  cried.  *He 
was  overlaid  or  had  sunstroke  or  something.  They 
call  him  The  Looney  in  the  kennels.  Besides,  he 
squints.' 

133 


134         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*I  think  that's  rather  fetching/  she  answered.  Nei- 
ther Malachi  nor  I  had  ever  seen  a  squinting  dog  be- 
fore. 

'That's  chorea — St.  Vitus's  dance,'  Mrs.  Godfrey 
put  in.     *He  ought  to  have  been  drowned.' 

'But  I  Hke  his  cast  of  countenance/  the  girl  persisted. 

*He  doesn't  look  a  good  life/  I  said,  *but  perhaps  he 
can  be  patched  up.'  Miss  SichlifFe  turned  crimson;  I 
saw  Mrs.  Godfrey  exchange  a  glance  with  her  married 
daughter,  and  knew  I  had  said  something  which  would 
have  to  be  lived  down. 

*Yes,'  Miss  SichlifFe  went  on,  her  voice  shaking,  'he 
isn't  a  good  life,  but  perhaps  I  can — patch  him  up. 
Come  here,  sir.'  The  misshapen  beast  lurched  toward 
her,  squinting  down  his  own  nose  till  he  fell  over  his 
own  toes.  Then,  luckily,  Bettina  ran  across  the  lawn 
and  reminded  Malachi  of  their  puppyhood.  All  that 
family  are  as  queer  as  Dick's  hatband,  and  fight  like 
man  and  wife.  I  had  to  separate  them,  and  Mrs. 
Godfrey  helped  me  till  they  retired  under  the  rhodo- 
dendrons and  had  it  out  in  silence. 

'D'you  know  what  that  girl's  father  was?'  Mrs. 
Godfrey  asked. 

*No,'  I  replied.  *I  loathe  her  for  her  own  sake.  She 
breathes  through  her  mouth.' 

*He  was  a  retired  doctor,'  she  explained.  'He  used 
to  pick  up  stormy  young  men  in  the  repentant  stage, 
take  them  home,  and  patch  them  up  till  they  were 
sound  enough  to  be  insured.  Then  he  insured  them 
heavily,  and  let  them  out  into  the  world  again — ^with  an 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  135 

appetite.  Of  course,  no  one  knew  him  while  he  was 
alive,  but  he  left  pots  of  money  to  his  daughter.' 

'Strictly  legitimate — highly  respectable,'  I  said. 
'But  what  a  life  for  the  daughter!' 

'Mustn't  it  have  been!  Now  d'you  realise  what  you 
said  just  now?' 

'Perfectly;  and  now  you've  made  me  quite  happy, 
shall  we  go  back  to  the  house.?' 

When  we  reached  it  they  were  all  inside,  sitting  in 
committee  on  names. 

'What  shall  you  call  yours?'  I  heard  Milly  ask  Miss 
Sichliffe. 

'Harvey,'  she  replied — 'Harvey's  Sauce,  you  know. 
He's  going  to  be  quite  saucy  when  I've' — she  saw  Mrs. 
Godfrey  and  me  coming  through  the  French  window — 
'when  he's  stronger.' 

Attley,  the  well-meaning  man,  to  make  me  feel  at  ease, 
asked  what  I  thought  of  the  name. 

'Oh,  splendid,'  I  said  at  random.  'H  with  an  A,  A 
with  an  R,  R  with  a ' 

'  But  that's  Little  Bingo,'  some  one  said,  and  they  all 
laughed. 

Miss  SichlifFe,  her  hands  joined  across  her  long  knees, 
drawled,  'You  ought  always  to  verify  your  quotations.' 

It  was  not  a  kindly  thrust,  but  something  in  the 
word  'quotation'  set  the  automatic  side  of  my  brain 
at  work  on  some  shadow  of  a  word  or  phrase  that  kept 
itself  out  of  memory's  reach  as  a  cat  sits  just  beyond  a 
dog's  jump.  When  I  was  going  home.  Miss  SichlifFe 
came  up  to  me  in  the  twilight,  the  pup  on  a  leash. 


136         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

swinging    her    big   shoes   at   the   end   of   her   tennis- 
racket. 

*  'Sorry/  she  said  in  her  thick  schoolboy-Hke  voice. 
*rm  sorry  for  what  I  said  to  you  about  verifying  quota- 
tions. I  didn't  know  you  well  enough  and — anyhow, 
I  oughtn't  to  have.' 

*But  you  were  quite  right  about  Little  Bingo,'  I 
answered.     *The  spelling  ought  to  have  reminded  me.' 

*Yes,  of  course.  It's  the  spelling,'  she  said,  and 
slouched  off  with  the  pup  sliding  after  her.  Once  again 
my  brain  began  to  worry  after  something  that  would 
have  meant  something  if  it  had  been  properly  spelled. 
I  confided  my  trouble  to  Malachi  on  the  way  home,  but 
Bettina  had  bitten  him  in  four  places,  and  he  was  busy. 

Weeks  later,  Attley  came  over  to  see  me,  and  before 
his  car  stopped  Malachi  let  me  know  that  Bettina  was 
sitting  beside  the  chauffeur.  He  greeted  her  by  the 
scruff  of  the  neck  as  she  hopped  down;  and  I  greeted 
Mrs.  Godfrey,  Attley,  and  a  big  basket. 

*  You've  got  to  help  me,'  said  Attley  tiredly.  We 
took  the  basket  into  the  garden,  and  there  staggered 
out  the  angular  shadow  of  a  sandy-pied,  broken-haired 
terrier,  with  one  imbecile  and  one  delirious  ear,  and  two 
most  hideous  squints.  Bettina  and  Malachi,  already 
at  grips  on  the  lawn,  saw  him,  let  go,  and  fled  in  opposite 
directions. 

*Why  have  you  brought  that  fetid  hound  here?'  I 
demanded. 

*  Harvey?  For  you  to  take  care  of,'  said  Attley. 
*He's  had  distemper,  but  /'m  going  abroad.' 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  137 

*Take  him  with  you.  I  won't  have  him.  He's 
mentally  afflicted.' 

*Look  here,'  Attley  almost  shouted,  *do  I  strike  you 
as  a  fool?' 

'Always/  said  I. 

*Well,  then,  if  you  say  so,  and  Ella  says  so,  that 
proves  I  ought  to  go  abroad.' 

*  Will's  wrong,  quite  wrong,'  Mrs.  Godfrey  inter- 
rupted; *but  you  must  take  the  pup.' 

'My  dear  boy,  my  dear  boy,  don't  you  ever  give 
anything  to  a  woman,'  Attley  snorted. 

Bit  by  bit  I  got  the  story  out  of  them  in  the  quiet 
garden  (never  a  sign  from  Bettina  and  Malachi), 
while  Harvey  stared  me  out  of  countenance,  first  with 
one  cuttlefish  eye  and  then  with  the  other. 

It  appeared  that,  a  month  after  Miss  SichlifFe  took 
him,  the  dog  Harvey  developed  distemper.  Miss 
SichlifFe  had  nursed  him  herself  for  some  time;  then  she 
carried  him  in  her  arms  the  two  miles  to  Mittleham, 
and  wept — actually  wept — at  Attley's  feet,  saying  that 
Harvey  was  all  she  had  or  expected  to  have  in  this 
world,  and  Attley  must  cure  him.  Attley,  being  by 
wealth,  position,  and  temperament  guardian  to  all 
lame  dogs,  had  put  everything  aside  for  this  unsavoury 
job,  and,  he  asserted.  Miss  SichlifFe  had  virtually  lived 
with  him  ever  since. 

*She  went  home  at  night,  of  course,'  he  exploded, 
*but  the  rest  of  the  time  she  simply  infested  the  prem- 
ises. Goodness  knows,  I'm  not  particular,  but  it  was 
a  scandal.     Even  the  servants!    .     .     .     Three  and 


138         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

four  times  a  day,  and  notes  in  between,  to  know  how  the 
beast  was.  Hang  it  all,  don't  laugh!  And  wanting 
to  send  me  flowers  and  goldfish.  Do  I  look  as  if  I 
wanted  goldfish?  Can't  you  two  stop  for  a  minute?' 
(Mrs.  Godfrey  and  I  were  clinging  to  each  other  for 
support.)  'And  it  isn't  as  if  I  was — ^was  so  alluring  a 
personality,  is  it?' 

Attley  commands  more  trust,  goodwill,  and  affection 
than  most  men,  for  he  is  that  rare  angel,  an  absolutely 
unselfish  bachelor,  content  to  be  run  by  contending 
syndicates  of  zealous  friends.  His  situation  seemed 
desperate,  and  I  told  him  so. 

*  Instant  flight  is  your  only  remedy,'  was  my  verdict. 
*ril  take  care  of  both  your  cars  while  you're  away,  and 
you  can  send  me  over  all  the  greenhouse  fruit.' 

*  But  why  should  I  be  chased  out  of  my  house  by  a 
she-dromedary?'  he  wailed. 

*0h,  stop!  Stop!'  Mrs.  Godfrey  sobbed.  'You're 
both  wrong.  I  admit  you're  right,  but  I  know  you're 
wrong.' 

'Three  and  four  times  a  day,'  said  Attley,  with  an 
awful  countenance.  'I'm  not  a  vain  man,  but — look 
here,  Ella,  I'm  not  sensitive,  I  hope,  but  if  you  persist 
in  making  a  joke  of  it ' 

*0h,  be  quiet ! '  she  almost  shrieked.  '  D  'you  imagine 
for  one  instant  that  your  friends  would  ever  let  Mittle- 
ham  pass  out  of  their  hands  ?  I  quite  agree  it  is  un- 
seemly for  a  grown  girl  to  come  to  Mittleham  at  all 
hours  of  the  day  and  night ' 

'I  told  you  she  went  home  o'  nights,'  Attley  growled. 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  139 

*  Specially  if  she  goes  home  o'  nights.  Oh,  but  think 
of  the  life  she  must  have  led,  Will!' 

'Fm  not  interfering  with  it;  only  she  must  leave  me 
alone.' 

*She  may  want  to  patch  you  up  and  insure  you,'  I 
suggested. 

*D'you  know  what  you  are?'  Mrs.  Godfrey  turned 
on  me  with  the  smile  I  have  feared  for  the  last  quarter 
of  a  century.  *  You're  the  nice,  kind,  wise,  doggy 
friend.  You  don't  know  how  wise  and  nice  you  are 
supposed  to  be.  Will  has  sent  Harvey  to  you  to  com- 
plete the  poor  angel's  convalescence.  You  know  all 
about  dogs,  or  Will  wouldn't  have  done  it.  He's  written 
her  that.  You're  too  far  off  for  her  to  make  daily  calls 
on  you.  P'r'aps  she'll  drop  in  two  or  three  times  a  week, 
and  write  on  other  days.  But  it  doesn't  matter  what  she 
does,  because  you  don't  own  Mittleham,  don't  you  see  ? ' 

I  told  her  I  saw  most  clearly. 

'Oh,  you'll  get  over  that  in  a  few  days,'  Mrs.  God- 
frey countered.  *  You're  the  sporting,  responsible, 
doggy  friend  who ' 

*He  used  to  look  at  me  like  that  at  first,'  said  Attley, 
with  a  visible  shudder,  *but  he  gave  it  up  after  a  bit. 
It's  only  because  you're  new  to  him.' 

*But,  confound  you!  he's  a  ghoul '  I  began. 

*And  when  he  gets  quite  well,  you'll  send  him  back 
to  her  direct  with  your  love,  and  she'll  give  you  some 
pretty  four-tailed  goldfish,'  said  Mrs.  Godfrey,  rising. 
*  That's  all  settled.  Car,  please.  We're  going  to 
Brighton  to  lunch  together.' 


I40         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

They  ran  before  I  could  get  into  my  stride,  so  I  told 
the  dog  Harvey  what  I  thought  of  them  and  his  mistress. 
He  never  shifted  his  position,  but  stared  at  me,  an 
intense,  lopsided  stare,  eye  after  eye.  Malachi  came 
along  when  he  had  seen  his  sister  off,  and  from  a  dis- 
tance counselled  me  to  drown  the  brute  and  consort 
with  gentlemen  again.  But  the  dog  Harvey  never  even 
cocked  his  cockable  ear. 

And  so  it  continued  as  long  as  he  was  with  me.  Where 
I  sat,  he  sat  and  stared;  where  I  walked,  he  walked 
beside,  head  stiffly  slewed  over  one  shoulder  in  single- 
barrelled  contemplation  of  me.  He  never  gave  tongue, 
never  closed  in  for  a  caress,  seldom  let  me  stir  a  step 
alone.  And,  to  my  amazement,  Malachi,  who  suffered 
no  stranger  to  live  within  our  gates,  saw  this  gaunt, 
growing,  green-eyed  devil  wipe  him  out  of  my  service 
and  company  without  a  whimper.  Indeed,  one  would 
have  said  the  situation  interested  him,  for  he  would 
meet  us  returning  from  grim  walks  together,  and  look 
alternately  at  Harvey  and  at  me  with  the  same  quiver- 
ing interest  that  he  showed  at  the  mouth  of  a  rat-hole, 
Outside  these  inspections,  Malachi  withdrew  himself 
as  only  a  dog  or  a  woman  can. 

Miss  SichlifFe  came  over  after  a  few  days  (luckily  I 
was  out)  with  some  elaborate  story  of  paying  calls  in  the 
neighbourhood.  She  sent  me  a  note  of  thanks  next 
day.  I  was  reading  it  when  Harvey  and  Malachi 
entered  and  disposed  themselves  as  usual,  Harvey  close 
up  to  stare  at  me,  Malachi  half  under  the  sofa,  watching 
us  both.     Out  of  curiosity  I  returned  Harvey's  stare. 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  141 

then  pulled  his  lopsided  head  on  to  my  knee,  and  took  his 
eye  for  several  minutes.  Now,  in  Malachi's  eye  I  can 
see  at  any  hour  all  that  there  is  of  the  normal  decent 
dog,  flecked  here  and  there  with  that  strained  half- 
soul  which  man's  love  and  association  have  added  to  his 
nature.  But  with  Harvey  the  eye  was  perplexed,  as  a 
tortured  man's.  Only  by  looking  far  into  its  deeps 
could  one  make  out  the  spirit  of  the  proper  animal, 
beclouded  and  cowering  beneath  some  unfair  burden 

Leggatt,  my  chauffeur,  came  in  for  orders. 

*How  d'you  think  Harvey's  coming  on?'  I  said,  as  I 
rubbed  the  brute's  gulping  neck.  The  vet  had  warned 
me  of  the  possibilities  of  spinal  trouble  following  dis- 
temper. 

*He  ain't  my  fancy,'  was  the  reply.  'But  /  don't 
question  his  comings  and  goings  so  long  as  I  'aven't 
to  sit  alone  in  a  room  with  him.' 

*Why?     He's  as  meek  as  Moses,'  I  said. 

*He  fair  gives  me  the  creeps.  P'r'aps  he'll  go  out  in 
fits.' 

But  Harvey,  as  I  wrote  his  mistress  from  time  to 
time,  throve,  and  when  he  grew  better,  would  play  by 
himself  grisly  games  of  spying,  walking  up,  hailing,  and 
chasing  another  dog.  From  these  he  would  break  off 
of  a  sudden  and  return  to  his  normal  stiff  gait,  with  the 
air  of  one  who  had  forgotten  some  matter  of  life  and 
death,  which  could  be  reached  only  by  staring  at  me. 
I  left  him  one  evening  posturing  with  the  unseen  on 
the  lawn,  and  went  inside  to  finish  some  letters  for  the 
post.     I  must  have  been  at  work  nearly  an  hour,  for  I 


142         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

was  going  to  turn  on  the  lights,  when  I  felt  there  was 
somebody  in  the  room  whom,  the  short  hairs  at  the  back 
of  my  neck  warned  me,  I  was  not  in  the  least  anxious  to 
face.  There  was  a  mirror  on  the  wall.  As  I  lifted  my 
eyes  to  it  I  saw  the  dog  Harvey  reflected  near  the 
shadow  by  the  closed  door.  He  had  reared  himself 
full-length  on  his  hind  legs,  his  head  a  little  one  side  to 
clear  a  sofa  between  us,  and  he  was  looking  at  me.  The 
face,  with  its  knitted  brows  and  drawn  lips,  was  the 
face  of  a  dog,  but  the  look,  for  the  fraction  of  time  that  I 
caught  it,  was  human — ^wholly  and  horribly  human. 
When  the  blood  in  my  body  went  forward  again  he  had 
dropped  to  the  floor,  and  was  merely  studying  me  in  his 
usual  one-eyed  fashion.  Next  day  I  returned  him  to 
Miss  Sichliff'e.  I  would  not  have  kept  him  another  day 
for  the  wealth  of  Asia,  or  even  Ella  Godfrey's  approval. 
Miss  Sichliff'e's  house  I  discovered  to  be  a  mid- 
Victorian  mansion  of  peculiar  villainy  even  for  its 
period,  surrounded  by  gardens  of  conflicting  colours, 
all  dazzling  with  glass  and  fresh  paint  on  ironwork. 
Striped  blinds,  for  it  was  a  blazing  autumn  morning, 
covered  most  of  the  windows,  and  a  voice  sang  to  the 
piano  an  almost  forgotten  song  of  Jean  Ingelow's — 

Methought  that  the  stars  were  blinking  bright, 
And  the  old  brig*s  sails  unfurled — 

Down  came  the  loud  pedal,  and  the  unrestrained  cry 

swelled  out  across  a  bed  of  tritomas  consuming  in  their 

own  fires — 

When  1  said  1  will  sail  to  my  love  this  night 
On  the  other  side  of  the  world. 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  143 

I  have  no  music,  but  the  voice  drew.     I  waited  till  the 
end: 

Oh,  maid  most  dear,  I  am  not  here 

I  have  no  place  apart — 
No  dwelling  more  on  sea  or  shore. 

But  only  in  thy  heart. 


It  seemed  to  me  a  poor  life  that  had  no  more  than  that 
to  do  at  eleven  o'clock  of  a  Tuesday  forenoon.  Then 
Miss  SichlifFe  suddenly  lumbered  through  a  French 
window  in  clumsy  haste,  her  brows  contracted  against 
the  light. 

'Well?'  she  said,  delivering  the  word  like  a  spear- 
thrust,  with  the  full  weight  of  a  body  behind  it. 

'I've  brought  Harvey  back  at  last,'  I  replied.  *Here 
he  is.' 

But  it  was  at  me  she  looked,  not  at  the  dog  who  had 
cast  himself  at  her  feet — looked  as  though  she  would 
have  fished  my  soul  out  of  my  breast  on  the  instant. 

*Wha — ^what  did  you  think  of  him.?  What  did  you 
make  of  him?'  she  panted.  I  was  too  taken  aback  for 
the  moment  to  reply.  Her  voice  broke  as  she  stooped 
to  the  dog  at  her  knees.  'O  Harvey,  Harvey!  You 
utterly  worthless  old  devil!'  she  cried,  and  the  dog 
cringed  and  abased  himself  in  serviHty  that  one  could 
scarcely  bear  to  look  upon.     I  made  to  go. 

'Oh,  but  please,  you  mustn't!'  She  tugged  at  the 
car's  side.  'Wouldn't  you  like  some  flowers  or  some 
orchids?  We've  really  splendid  orchids,  and' — she 
clasped  her  hands — 'there  are  Japanese  goldfish — real 


144         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Japanese  goldfish,  with  four  tails.  If  you  don't  care 
for  'em,  perhaps  your  friends  or  somebody — oh,  please  T 

Harvey  had  recovered  himself,  and  I  realised  that 
this  woman  beyond  the  decencies  was  fawning  on  me 
as  the  dog  had  fawned  on  her. 

'Certainly,'  I  said,  ashamed  to  meet  her  eye.  'I'm 
lunching  at  Mittleham,  but ' 

'There's  plenty  of  time,'  she  entreated.  *What  do 
you  think  of  Harvey  ? ' 

'He's  a  queer  beast,'  I  said,  getting  out.  *He  does 
nothing  but  stare  at  me.' 

*  Does  he  stare  at  you  all  the  time  he's  with  you  ?' 

'Always.     He's  doing  it  now.     Look!' 

We  had  halted.  Harvey  had  sat  down,  and  was 
staring  from  one  to  the  other  with  a  weaving  motion 
of  the  head. 

'He'll  do  that  all  day,'  I  said.     'What  is  it,  Harvey?' 

'Yes,  what  is  it,  Harvey?'  she  echoed.  The  dog's 
throat  twitched,  his  body  stiffened  and  shook  as  though 
he  were  going  to  have  a  fit.  Then  he  came  back  with  a 
visible  wrench  to  his  unwinking  watch. 

"Always  so?'  she  whispered. 

'Always,'  I  replied,  and  told  her  something  of  his  life 
with  me.  She  nodded  once  or  twice,  and  in  the  end  led 
me  into  the  house. 

There  were  unaging  pitch-pine  doors  of  Gothic  design 
in  it;  there  were  inlaid  marble  mantel-pieces  and  cut- 
steel  fenders;  there  were  stupendous  wall-papers,  and 
octagonal,  medallioned  Wedgwood  what-nots,  and 
black-and-gilt  Austrian  images  holding  candelabra,  with 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  145 

every  other  refinement  that  Art  had  achieved  or  wealth 
had  bought  between  1851  and  1878.  And  everything 
reeked  of  varnish. 

*Now!'  she  opened  a  baize  door,  and  pointed  down  a 
long  corridor  flanked  with  more  Gothic  doors.  *This 
was  where  we  used  to — ^to  patch  'em  up.  You've  heard 
of  us.  Mrs.  Godfrey  told  you  in  the  garden  the  day  I 
got  Harvey  given  me.  I' — she  drew  in  her  breath — *I 
live  here  by  myself,  and  I  have  a  very  large  income. 
Come  back,  Harvey.' 

He  had  tiptoed  down  the  corridor,  as  rigid  as  ever, 
and  was  sitting  outside  one  of  the  shut  doors.  *Look 
here!'  she  said,  and  planted  herself  squarely  in  front  of 
me.  *I  tell  you  this  because  you — ^you've  patched  up 
Harvey,  too.  Now,  I  want  you  to  remember  that  my 
name  is  Moira.  Mother  calls  me  Marjorie  because  it's 
more  refined;  but  my  real  name  is  Moira,  and  I  am  in 
my  thirty-fourth  year.' 

*Very  good,'  I  said.     'I'll  remember  all  that.' 

*Thank  you.'  Then  with  a  sudden  swoop  into  the 
humility  of  an  abashed  boy — * 'Sorry  if  I  haven't  said 
the  proper  things.  You  see — there's  Harvey  looking 
at  us  again.  Oh,  I  want  to  say —  if  ever  you  want  any- 
thing in  the  way  of  orchids  or  goldfish  or — or  anything 
else  that  would  be  useful  to  you,  you've  only  to  come 
to  me  for  it.  Under  the  will  I'm  perfectly  independent, 
and  we're  a  long-lived  family,  worse  luck ! '  She  looked 
at  me,  and  her  face  worked  like  glass  behind  driven 
flame.  *I  may  reasonably  expect  to  live  another  fifty 
years,'  she  said. 


146         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Thank  you,  Miss  SichlifFe,'  I  replied.  *If  I  want 
anything,  you  may  be  sure  FlI  come  to  you  for  it/ 
She  nodded.  *Now  I  must  get  over  to  Mittleham,*  I 
said. 

*Mr.  Attley  will  ask  you  all  about  this.'  For  the  first 
time  she  laughed  aloud.  'I'm  afraid  I  frightened  him 
nearly  out  of  the  county.  I  didn't  think,  of  course. 
But  I  dare  say  he  knows  by  this  time  he  was  wrong. 
Say  good-bye  to  Harvey.' 

*  Good-bye,  old  man,'  I  said.  *Give  me  a  farewell 
stare,  so  we  shall  know  each  other  when  we  meet  again.' 

The  dog  looked  up,  then  moved  slowly  toward  me,  and 
stood,  head  bowed  to  the  floor,  shaking  in  every  muscle 
as  I  patted  him;  and  when  I  turned,  I  saw  him  crawl 
back  to  her  feet. 

That  was  not  a  good  preparation  for  the  rampant 
boy-and-girl-dominated  lunch  at  Mittleham,  which, 
as  usual,  I  found  in  possession  of  everybody  except  the 
owner. 

*  But  what  did  the  dromedary  say  when  you  brought 
her  beast  back  ? '  Attley  demanded. 

*The  usual  polite  things,'  I  replied.  'I'm  posing  as 
the  nice  doggy  friend  nowadays.' 

T  don't  envy  you.  She's  never  darkened  my  doors, 
thank  goodness,  since  I  left  Harvey  at  your  place.  I 
suppose  she'll  run  about  the  county  now  swearing  you 
cured  him.  That's  a  woman's  idea  of  gratitude.' 
Attley  seemed  rather  hurt,  and  Mrs.  Godfrey  laughed. 

'That  proves  you  were  right  about  Miss  Sichliffe, 
Ella,'  I  said.     *She  had  no  designs  on  anybody.' 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  147 

Tm  always  right  in  these  matters.  But  didn't  she 
even  offer  you  a  goldfish?' 

'Not  a  thing,'  said  I.  *  You  know  what  an  old  maid's 
like  where  her  precious  dog's  concerned/  And  though 
I  have  tried  vainly  to  lie  to  Ella  Godfrey  for  many 
years,  I  believe  that  in  this  case  I  succeeded. 

When  I  turned  into  our  drive  that  evening,  Leggatt 
observed  half  aloud: 

'I'm  glad  Zvengali's  back  where  he  belongs.  It's 
time  our  Mike  had  a  look  in.' 

Sure  enough,  there  was  Malachi  back  again  in  spirit 
as  well  as  flesh,  but  still  with  that  odd  air  of  expectation 
he  had  picked  up  from  Harvey. 


It  was  in  January  that  Attley  wrote  me  that  Mrs. 
Godfrey,  wintering  in  Madeira  with  Milly,  her  un- 
married daughter,  had  been  attacked  with  something 
like  enteric;  that  the  hotel,  anxious  for  its  good  name, 
had  thrust  them  both  out  into  a  cottage  annexe;  that 
he  was  off  with  a  nurse,  and  that  I  was  not  to  leave 
England  till  I  heard  from  him  again.  In  a  week  he 
wired  that  Milly  was  down  as  well,  and  that  I  must 
bring  ouj:  two  more  nurses,  with  suitable  delicacies. 

Within  seventeen  hours  I  had  got  them  all  aboard 
the  Cape  boat,  and  had  seen  the  women  safely  collapsed 
into  sea-sickness.  The  next  few  weeks  were  for  me, 
as  for  the  invalids,  a  low  delirium,  clouded  with  fantastic 
memories  of  Portuguese  officials  trying  to  tax  calves'- 
foot  jelly;  voluble  doctors  insisting  that  true  typhoid 


148         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

was  unknown  in  the  island;  nurses  who  had  to  be  exer- 
cised, taken  out  of  themselves,  and  returned  on  the 
tick  of  change  of  guard;  night  slides  down  glassy, 
cobbled  streets,  smelling  of  sewage  and  flowers,  be- 
tween walls  whose  every  stone  and  patch  Attley  and  I 
knew;  vigils  in  stucco  verandahs,  watching  the  curve 
and  descent  of  great  stars  or  drawing  auguries  from 
the  break  of  dawn;  insane  interludes  of  gambling  at  the 
local  Casino,  where  we  won  heaps  of  unconsoling  silver; 
blasts  of  steamers  arriving  and  departing  in  the  roads; 
help  offered  by  total  strangers,  grabbed  at  or  thrust 
aside;  the  long  nightmare  crumbling  back  into  sanity 
one  forenoon  under  a  vine-covered  trellis,  where  Attley 
sat  hugging  a  nurse,  while  the  others  danced  a  noiseless, 
neat-footed  breakdown  never  learned  at  the  Middlesex 
Hospital.  At  last,  as  the  tension  came  out  all  over  us  in 
aches  and  tingles  that  we  put  down  to  the  countrywine, 
a  vision  of  Mrs.  Godfrey^  her  grey  hair  turned  to  spun- 
glass,  but  her  eyes  triumphant  over  the  shadow  of 
retreating  death  beneath  them,  with  Milly,  enormously 
grown,  and  clutching  life  back  to  her  young  breast^ 
both  stretched  out  on  cane  chairs,  clamouring  for  food. 
In  this  ungirt  hour  there  imported  himself  into  our 
life  a  ybungish-looking  middle-aged  man  of  the  name 
of  Shend,  with  a  blurred  face  and  deprecating  eyes. 
He  said  he  had  gambled  with  me  at  the  Casino,  which 
was  no  recommendation,  and  I  remember  that  he  twice 
gave  me  a  basket  of  champagne  and  liqueur  brandy  for 
the  invalids,  which  a  sailor  in  a  red-tasselled  cap  carried 
up  to  the  cottage  for  me  at  3  a.m.     He  turned  out  to 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  149 

be  the  son  of  some  merchant  prince  in  the  oil  and  colour 
line,  and  the  owner  of  a  four-hundred-ton  steam  yacht, 
into  which,  at  his  gentle  insistence,  we  later  shifted  our 
camp,  staff,  and  equipage,  Milly  weeping  with  delight 
to  escape  from  the  horrible  cottage.  There  we  lay  off 
Funchal  for  weeks,  while  Shend  did  miracles  of  luxury 
and  attendance  through  deputies,  and  never  once 
asked  how  his  guests  were  enjoying  themselves.  In- 
deed, for  several  days  at  a  time  we  would  see  nothing 
of  him.  He  was,  he  said,  subject  to  malaria.  Giving 
as  they  do  with  both  hands,  I  knew  that  Attley  and 
Mrs.  Godfrey  could  take  nobly;  but  I  never  met  a  man 
who  so  nobly  gave  and  so  nobly  received  thanks  as 
Shend  did. 

*Tell  us  why  you  have  been  so  unbeHevably  kind  to 
us  gipsies,'  Mrs.  Godfrey  said  to  him  one  day  on  deck. 

He  looked  up  from  a  diagram  of  some  Thames-mouth 
shoals  which  he  was  explaining  to  me,  and  answered 
with  his  gentle  smile: 

*I  will.  It's  because  it  makes  me  happy — it  makes 
me  more  than  happy — ^to  be  with  you.  It  makes  me 
comfortable.  You  know  how  selfish  men  are?  If  a 
man  feels  comfortable  all  over  with  certain  people,  he'll 
bore  them  to  death,  just  like  a  dog.  You  always  make 
me  feel  as  if  pleasant  things  were  going  to  happen  to  me.' 

'Haven't  any  ever  happened  before?'  Milly  asked. 

'This  is  the  most  pleasant  thing  that  has  happened 
to  me  in  ever  so  many  years,'  he  replied.  *I  feel  like 
the  man  in  the  Bible,  "It's  good  for  me  to  be  here." 
Generally,  I  don't  feel  that  it's  good  for  me  to  be  any- 


ISO         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

where  in  particular.'  Then,  as  one  begging  a  favour. 
'You'll  let  me  come  home  with  you — in  the  same  boat, 
I  mean  ?  Vd  take  you  back  in  this  thing  of  mine,  and 
that  would  save  you  packing  your  trunks,  but  she's  too 
lively  for  spring  work  across  the  Bay.' 

We  booked  our  berths,  and  when  the  time  came,  he 
wafted  us  and  ours  aboard  the  Southampton  mail-boat 
with  the  pomp  of  plenipotentiaries  and  the  precision 
of  the  Navy.  Then  he  dismissed  his  yacht,  and  became 
an  inconspicuous  passenger  in  a  cabin  opposite  to  mine, 
on  the  port  side. 

We  ran  at  once  into  early  British  spring  weather, 
followed  by  sou  Vest  gales.  Mrs.  Godfrey,  Milly, 
and  the  nurses  disappeared.  Attley  stood  it  out,  visibly 
yellowing,  till  the  next  meal,  and  followed  suit,  and 
Shend  and  I  had  the  Httle  table  all  to  ourselves.  I 
found  him  even  more  attractive  when  the  women  were 
away.  The  natural  sweetness  of  the  man,  his  voice, 
and  bearing  all  fascinated  me,  and  his  knowledge  of 
practical  seamanship  (he  held  an  extra  master's  certifi- 
cate) was  a  real  joy.  We  sat  long  in  the  empty  saloon 
and  longer  in  the  smoking-room,  making  dashes  down- 
stairs over  slippery  decks  at  the  eleventh  hour. 

It  was  on  Friday  night,  just  as  I  was  going  to  bed, 
that  he  came  into  my  cabin,  after  cleaning  his  teeth, 
which  he  did  half  a  dozen  times  a  day. 

*I  say,'  he  began  hurriedly,  *do  you  mind  if  I  come 
in  here  for  a  little?  I'm  a  bit  edgy.'  I  must  have 
shown  surprise.  'I'm  ever  so  much  better  about  liquor 
than  I  used  to  be,  but — ^it's  the  whisky  in  the  suitcase 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  151 

that  throws  me.  For  God's  sake,  old  man,  don't  go 
back  on  me  to-night!     Look  at  my  hands!' 

They  were  fairly  jumping  at  the  wrists.  He  sat 
down  on  a  trunk  that  had  slid  out  with  the  roll.  We 
had  reduced  speed,  and  were  surging  in  confused  seas 
that  pounded  on  the  black  port-glasses.  The  night 
promised  to  be  a  pleasant  one! 

*You  understand,  of  course,  don't  you?'  he  chattered. 

*0h  yes,'  I  said  cheerily;  *but  how  about ' 

*No,  no;  on  no  account  the  doctor.  'Tell  a  doctor, 
tell  the  whole  ship.  Besides,  I've  only  got  a  touch  of 
'em.  You'd  never  have  guessed  it,  would  you?  The 
tooth-wash  does  the  trick.  I'll  give  you  the  prescrip- 
tion.' 

'I'll  send  a  note  to  the  doctor  for  a  prescription,  shall 
I?'  I  suggested. 

*  Right!  I  put  myself  unreservedly  in  your  hands. 
'Fact  is,  I  always  did.  I  said  to  myself — 'sure  I  don't 
bore  you? — ^the  minute  I  saw  you,  I  said,  "Thou  art  the 
man."'  He  repeated  the  phrase  as  he  picked  at  his 
knees.  *A11  the  same,  you  can  take  it  from  me  that 
the  ewe-lamb  business  is  a  rotten  bad  one.  I  don't  care 
how  unfaithful  the  shepherd  may  be.  Drunk  or  sober, 
'tisn't  cricket.' 

A  surge  of  the  trunk  threw  him  across  the  cabin  as 
the  steward  answered  my  bell.  I  wrote  my  requisition 
to  the  doctor  while  Shend  was  struggling  to  his  feet. 

*  What's  wrong?'  he  began.  *0h,  I  know.  We're 
slowing  for  soundings  off  Ushant.  It's  about  time,  too. 
You'd  better  §hip  the  dead-lights  when  you  come  back, 


152         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Matchem.  It'll  save  you  waking  us  later.  This  sea's 
going  to  get  up  when  the  tide  turns.  That'll  show  you,' 
he  said  as  the  man  left,  *that  I  am  to  be  trusted. 
You — you'll  stop  me  if  I  say  anything  I  shouldn't,  won't 
you?' 

*Talk  away,'  I  replied,  *if  it  makes  you  feel  better.' 

'That's  it;  you've  hit  it  exactly.  You  always  make 
me  feel  better.  I  can  rely  on  you.  It's  awkward 
soundings  but  you'll  see  me  through  it.  We'll  defeat 
him  yet.  ...  I  may  be  an  utterly  worthless  devil, 
but  I'm  not  a  brawler.  ...  I  told  Tiim  so  at 
breakfast.  I  said,  "Doctor,  I  detest  brawling,  but  if 
ever  you  allow  that  girl  to  be  insulted  again  as  Clements 
insulted  her,  I  will  break  your  neck  with  my  own  hands." 
You  think  I  was  right  ? ' 

'Absolutely,'  I  agreed. 

'Then  we  needn't  discuss  the  matter  any  further. 
That  man  was  a  murderer  in  intention — outside  the 
law,  you  understand,  as  it  was  then.  They've  changed 
it  since — but  he  never  deceived  me»  I  told  him  so. 
I  said  to  him  at  the  time,  "I  don't  know  what  price 
you're  going  to  put  on  my  head,  but  if  ever  you  allow 
Clements  to  insult  her  again,  you'll  never  live  to  claim 
it."' 

'And  what  did  he  do?'  I  asked,  to  carry  on  the  con- 
versation, for  Matchem  entered  with  the  bromide. 

'Oh,  crumpled  up  at  once.  'Lead  still  going,  Mat- 
chem ? ' 

'I  'aven't  'eard,'  said  that  faithful  servant  of  the 
Union-Castle  Company. 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  153 

'Quite  right.  Never  alarm  the  passengers.  Ship  the 
dead-Hght,  will  you?'  Matchem  shipped  it,  for  we 
were  rolling  very  heavily.  There  were  tramplings 
and  gull-like  cries  from  on  deck.  Shend  looked  at  me 
with  a  mariner's  eye. 

*  That's  nothing,'  he  said  protectingly. 

*0h,  it's  all  right  for  you,'  I  said,  jumping  at  the  idea. 
*/  haven't  an  extra  master's  certificate.  I'm  only  a 
passenger.     I  confess  it  funks  me.' 

Instantly  his  whole  bearing  changed  to  answer  the 
appeal. 

*My  dear  fellow,  it's  as  simple  as  houses.  We're 
hunting  for  sixty-five  fathom  water.  Anything  short 
of  sixty,  with  a  sou 'west  wind  means — but  I'll  get  my 
Channel  Pilot  out  of  my  cabin  and  give  you  the  general 
idea.  I'm  only  too  grateful  to  do  anything  to  put  your 
mind  at  ease.' 

And  so,  perhaps,  for  another  hour — ^he  declined  the 
drink — Channel  Pilot  in  hand,  he  navigated  us  round 
Ushant,  and  at  my  request  up-channel  to  Southampton, 
light  by  light,  with  explanations  and  reminiscences.  I 
professed  myself  soothed  at  last,  and  suggested  bed. 

*In  a  second,'  said  he.  'Now,  you  wouldn't  think, 
would  you ' — he  glanced  off  the  book  toward  my  wildly 
swaying  dressing-gown  on  the  door — *that  I've  been  see- 
ing things  for  the  last  half-hour?  'Fact  is,  Fm  just  on 
the  edge  of  'em,  skating  on  thin  ice  round  the  corner — 
nor 'east  as  near  as  nothing — ^where  that  dog's  looking 
at  me.' 

'What's  the  dog  like?'  I  asked. 


154         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Ah,  that  is  comforting  of  you!  Most  men  walk 
through  'em  to  show  me  they  aren't  real.  As  if  I  didn't 
know!  But  you're  different.  Anybody  could  see  that 
with  half  an  eye.'     He  stiffened  and  pointed.     'Damn 

it  all!     The  dog  sees  it  too  with  half  an Why,  he 

knows  you!  Knows  you  perfectly.  D'you  know 
him  ? ' 

'How  can  I  tell  if  he  isn't  real?'  I  insisted. 

*But  you  can!  Youve  all  right.  I  saw  that  from 
the  first.  Don't  go  back  on  me  now  or  I  shall  go  to 
pieces  like  the  Drummond  Castle.  I  beg  your  pardon, 
old  man;  but,  you  see,  you  do  know  the  dog.  I'll  prove 
it.  What's  that  dog  doing?  Come  on!  You  know.' 
A  tremor  shook  him,  and  he  put  his  hand  on  my  knee, 
and  whispered  with  great  meaning:  *  I'll  letter  or  halve 
it  with  you.     There!    You  begin.' 

*  S,'  said  I  to  humour  him,  for  a  dog  would  most  likely 
be  standing  or  sitting,  or  may  be  scratching  or  sniffling 
or  staring. 

*Q,'  he  went  on,  and  I  could  feel  the  heat  of  his 
shaking  hand. 

*U,'  said  I.  There  was  no  other  letter  possible; 
but  I  was  shaking  too. 

*I.' 

'N.' 

*T-i-n-g,'  he  ran  out.  'There!  That  proves  it.  I 
knew  you  knew  him.  You  don't  know  what  a  relief 
that  is.  Between  ourselves,  old  man,  he — he's  been 
turning  up  lately  a — a  damn  sight  more  often  than  I 
cared  for.     And  a  squinting  dog — a  dog  that  squints! 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  155 

I  mean  that's  a  bit  too  much.  Eh?  What?'  He 
gulped  and  half  rose,  and  I  thought  that  the  full  tide  of 
delirium  would  be  on  him  in  another  sentence. 

'Not  a  bit  of  it,'  I  said  as  a  last  chance,  with  my  hand 
over  the  bellpush.  'Why,  you've  just  proved  that  I 
know  him;  so  there  are  two  of  us  in  the  game,  any- 
how.' 

*By  Jove!  that  is  an  idea!  Of  course  there  are.  I 
knew  you'd  see  me  through.  We'll  defeat  them  yet. 
Hi,  pup!  .  .  .  He's  gone.  Absolutely  disap- 
peared!' He  sighed  with  relief,  and  I  caught  the  lucky 
moment. 

*Good  business!  I  expect  he  only  came  to  have  a 
look  at  me,'  I  said.  *Now,  get  this  drink  down  and 
turn  in  to  the  lower  bunk.' 

He  obeyed,  protesting  that  he  could  not  inconvenience 
me,  and  in  the  midst  of  apologies  sank  into  a  dead  sleep. 
I  expected  a  wakeful  night,  having  a  certain  amount  to 
think  over;  but  no  sooner  had  I  scrambled  into  the 
top  bunk  than  sleep  came  on  me  like  a  wave  from  the 
other  side  of  the  world. 

In  the  morning  there  were  apologies,  which  we  got 
over  at  breakfast  before  our  party  were  about. 

*I  suppose — after  this — ^well,  I  don't  blame  you.  I'm 
rather  a  lonely  chap,  though.'  His  eyes  lifted  dog-like 
across  the  table. 

'Shend,'  I  replied,  'I'm  not  running  a  Sunday  school. 
You're  coming  home  with  me  in  my  car  as  soon  as  we 
land.' 

'That  is  kind  of  you — kinder  than  you  think.' 


iS6         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'That's  because  you're  a  little  jumpy  still.  Now,  I 
don't  want  to  mix  up  in  your  private  affairs ' 

'  But  I'd  like  you  to,'  he  interrupted. 

*Then,  would  you  mind  telling  me  the  Christian 
name  of  a  girl  who  was  insulted  by  a  man  called  Clem- 
ents?' 

*Moira,'  he  whispered;  and  just  then  Mrs.  Godfrey 
and  Milly  came  to  table  with  their  shore-going  hats  on. 

We  did  not  tie  up  till  noon,  but  the  faithful  Leggatt 
had  intrigued  his  way  down  to  the  dock-edge,  and  beside 
him  sat  Malachi,  wearing  his  collar  of  gold,  or  Leggatt 
makes  it  look  so,  as  eloquent  as  Demosthenes.  Shend 
flinched  a  little  when  he  saw  him.  We  packed  Mrs. 
Godfrey  and  Milly  into  Attley's  car — they  were  going 
with  him  to  Mittleham,  of  course — and  drew  clear  across 
the  railway  lines  to  find  England  all  lit  and  perfumed 
for  spring.     Shend  sighed  with  happiness. 

*D'you  know,'  he  said,  *if — if  you'd  chucked  me — I 
should  have  gone  down  to  my  cabin  after  breakfast 
and  cut  my  throat.  And  now — it's  Hke  a  dream — a 
good  dream,  you  know.' 

We  lunched  with  the  other  three  at  Romsey.  Then 
I  sat  in  front  for  a  httle  while  to  talk  to  my  Malachi. 
When  I  looked  back,  Shend  was  solidly  asleep,  and 
stayed  so  for  the  next  two  hours,  while  Leggatt  chased 
Attley's  fat  Daimler  along  the  green-speckled  hedges. 
He  woke  up  when  we  said  good-bye  at  Mittleham,  with 
promises  to  meet  again  very  soon. 

*And  I  hope,'  said  Mrs.  Godfrey,  'that  everything 
pleasant  will  happen  to  you.' 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  157 

'Heaps  and  heaps — all  at  once/  cried  long,  weak 
Milly,  waving  her  wet  handkerchief! 

'I've  just  got  to  look  in  at  a  house  near  here  for  a 
minute  to  inquire  about  a  dog,'  I  said,  *and  then  we 
will  go  home.' 

*I  used  to  know  this  part  of  the  world,'  he  replied,  and 
said  no  more  till  Leggatt  shot  past  the  lodge  at  the 
SichlifFes's  gate.     Then  I  heard  him  gasp. 

Miss  SichlifFe,  in  a  green  waterproof,  an  orange  jersey, 
and  a  pinkish  leather  hat,  was  working  on  a  bulb- 
border.  She  straightened  herself  as  the  car  stopped, 
and  breathed  hard.  Shend  got  out  and  walked  towards 
her.  They  shook  hands,  turned  round  together,  and 
went  into  the  house.  Then  the  dog  Harvey  pranced 
out  corkily  from  under  the  lee  of  a  bench.  Malachi, 
with  one  joyous  swoop,  fell  on  him  as  an  enemy  and  an 
equal.  Harvey,  for  his  part,  freed  from  all  burden  what- 
soever except  the  obvious  duty  of  a  man-dog  on  his 
own  ground,  met  Malachi  without  reserve  or  remorse, 
and  with  six  months'  additional  growth  to  come  and 
go  on. 

'Don't  check  'eml'  cried  Leggatt,  dancing  round  the 
flurry.  'They've  both  been  saving  up  for  each  other 
all  this  time.     It'll  do  'em  worlds  of  good.' 

'Leggatt,'  I  said,  'will  you  take  Mr.  Shend's  bag  and 
suitcase  up  to  the  house  and  put  them  down  just  inside 
the  door.?     Then  we  will  go  on.' 

So  I  enjoyed  the  finish  alone.  It  was  a  dead  heat, 
and  they  licked  each  other's  jaws  in  amity  till  Harvey, 
one  imploring  eye  on  me,  leaped  into  the  front  seat. 


158         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

and  Malachi  backed  his  appeal.  It  was  theft,  but  I 
took  him,  and  we  talked  all  the  way  home  of  r-rats  and 
r-rabbits  and  bones  and  baths  and  the  other  basic 
facts  of  life.  That  evening  after  dinner  they  slept  be- 
fore the  fire,  with  their  warm  chins  across  the  hollows 
of  my  ankles — to  each  chin  an  ankle — till  I  kicked  them 
upstairs  to  bed. 

I  was  not  at  Mittleham  when  she  came  over  to  an- 
nounce her  engagement,  but  I  heard  of  it  when  Mrs. 
Godfrey  and  Attley  came,  forty  miles  an  hour,  over  to 
me,  and  Mrs.  Godfrey  called  me  names  of  the  worst  for 
suppression  of  information. 

'As  long  as  it  wasn't  me,  I  don't  care,'  said  Attley. 

*I  beHeve  you  knew  it  all  along,'  Mrs.  Godfrey  re- 
peated. *  Else  what  made  you  drive  that  man  literally 
into  her  arms?' 

'To  ask  after  the  dog  Harvey,'  I  replied. 

'Then,  what's  the  beast  doing  here?'  Attley  de- 
manded, for  Malachi  and  the  dog  Harvey  were  deep 
in  a  council  of  the  family  with  Bettina,  who  was  being 
out-argued. 

*0h,  Harvey  seemed  to  think  himself  de  trop  where 
he  was,'  I  said.  'And  she  hasn't  sent  after  him.  You'd 
better  save  Bettina  before  they  kill  her.' 

'There's  been  enough  lying  about  that  dog,'  said 
Mrs.  Godfrey  to  me.  'If  he  wasn't  born  in  Hes,  he  was 
baptized  in  'em.  D'you  know  why  she  called  him 
Harvey  ?  It  only  occurred  to  me  in  those  dreadful  days 
when  I  was  ill,  and  one  can't  keep  from  thinking,  and 


THE  DOG  HERVEY  159 

thinks  everything.  D'you  know  your  Boswell?  What 
did  Johnson  say  about  Hervey — ^with  an  e?* 

*0h,  that's  it,  is  it?'  I  cried  incautiously.  'That  was 
why  I  ought  to  have  verified  my  quotations.  The 
spelling  defeated  me.  Wait  a  moment,  and  it  will  come 
back.  Johnson  said:  "He  was  a  vicious  man,"'  I 
began. 

*"But  very  kind  to  me,"'  Mrs.  Godfrey  prompted. 
Then,  both  together,  '"If  you  call  a  dog  Hervey,  I  shall 
love  him."' 

*So  you  were  mixed  up  in  it.  At  any  rate,  you  had 
your  suspicions  from  the  first  ?     Tell  me,'  she  said. 

'Ella,'  I  said,  'I  don't  know  anything  rational  or 
reasonable  about  any  of  it.  It  was  all — all  woman- 
work,  and  it  scared  me  horribly.' 

*Why?'  she  asked. 

That  was  six  years  ago.  I  have  written  this  tale  to 
let  her  know — ^wherever  she  may  be. 


THE  COMFORTERS 

Until  thy  feet  have  trod  the  Road 

Advise  not  wayside  folk, 
Nor  till  thy  back  has  borne  the  Load 

Break  in  upon  the  Broke. 

Chase  not  with  undesired  largesse 

Of  sympathy  the  heart 
Which,  knowing  her  own  bitterness, 

Presumes  to  dwell  apart. 

Employ  not  that  glad  hand  to  raise 
The  God-forgotten  head 

To  Heaven,  and  all  the  neighbours'  gaze- 
Cover  thy  mouth  instead. 

The  quivering  chin,  the  bitten  Hp, 

The  cold  and  sweating  brow. 
Later  may  yearn  for  fellowship — 

Not  now,  you  ass,  not  now! 

Time,  not  thy  ne  'er  so  timely  speech, 

Life,  not  thy  views  thereon. 
Shall  furnish  or  deny  to  each 

His  consolation. 

i6o 


THE  COMFORTERS  i6i 

Or,  if  impelled  to  interfere, 

Exhort,  uplift,  advise. 
Lend  not  a  base,  betraying  ear 

To  all  the  victim's  cries. 

Only  the  Lord  can  understand 

When  those  first  pangs  begin. 
How  much  is  reflex  action  and 

How  much  is  really  sin. 

E'en  from  good  words  thyself  refrain, 

And  tremblingly  admit 
There  is  no  anodyne  for  pain 

Except  the  shock  of  it. 

So,  when  thine  own  dark  hour  shall  fall. 

Unchallenged  canst  thou  say: 
*I  never  worried  you  at  all, 

For  God's  sake  go  awayl' 


The  Village  that  Voted  the  Earth  was  Flat 

(1913) 

Our  drive  rill  then  had  been  quite  a  success.  The  other 
men  in  the  car  were  my  friend  Woodhouse,  young 
Ollyett,  a  distant  connection  of  his,  and  Pallant,  the 
M.P.  Woodhouse's  business  was  the  treatment  and  cure 
of  sick  journals.  He  knew  by  instinct  the  precise 
moment  in  a  newspaper's  life  when  the  impetus  of 
past  good  management  is  exhausted  and  it  fetches  up 
on  the  dead-centre  between  slow  and  expensive  collapse 
and  the  new  start  which  can  be  given  by  gold  injections 
— and  genius.  He  was  wisely  ignorant  of  journalism; 
but  when  he  stooped  on  a  carcase  there  was  sure  to  be 
meat.  He  had  that  week  added  a  half-dead,  half- 
penny evening  paper  to  his  collection,  which  consisted 
of  a  prosperous  London  daily,  one  provincial  ditto,  and 
a  limp-bodied  weekly  of  commercial  leanings.  He  had 
also,  that  very  hour,  planted  me  with  a  large  block  of 
the  evening  paper's  common  shares,  and  was  explaining 
the  whole  art  of  editorship  to  Ollyett,  a  young  man 
three  years  from  Oxford,  with  coir-matting-coloured 
hair  and  a  face  harshly  modelled  by  harsh  experiences, 
who,  I  understood,  was  assisting  in  the  new  venture. 
Pallant,  the  long,  wrinkled  M.P.,  whose  voice  is  more 
Hke  a  crane's  than  a  peacock's,  took  no  shares,  but 
gave  us  all  advice. 

163 


i64         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*You'll  find  it  rather  a  knacker's  yard,'  Woodhouse 
was  saying.  *Yes,  I  know  they  call  me  The  Knacker; 
but  it  will  pay  inside  a  year.  All  my  papers  do.  I've 
only  one  motto:  Back  your  luck  and  back  your  staff. 
It'll  come  out  all  right.' 

Then  the  car  stopped,  and  a  policeman  asked  our 
names  and  addresses  for  exceeding  the  speed-limit. 
We  pointed  out  that  the  road  ran  absolutely  straight  for 
half  a  mile  ahead  without  even  a  side-lane.  *  That's 
just  what  we  depend  on,'  said  the  policeman  un- 
pleasantly. 

*The  usual  swindle,'  said  Woodhouse  under  his 
breath.     *  What's  the  name  of  this  place?' 

*Huckley,'  said  the  policeman.  *H-u-c-k-l-e-y,'  and 
wrote  something  in  his  note-book  at  which  young 
Ollyett  protested.  A  large  red  man  on  a  grey  horse 
who  had  been  watching  us  from  the  other  side  of  the 
hedge  shouted  an  order  we  could  not  catch.  The 
policeman  laid  his  hand  on  the  rim  of  the  right  driving- 
door  (Woodhouse  carries  his  spare  tyres  aft),  and  it 
closed  on  the  button  of  the  electric  horn.  The  grey 
horse  at  once  bolted,  and  we  could  hear  the  rider  swear- 
ing all  across  the  landscape. 

*  Damn  it,  man,  you've  got  your  silly  fist  on  it !  Take 
it  off!'  Woodhouse  shouted. 

*Ho!'  said  the  constable,  looking  carefully  at  his 
fingers  as  though  we  had  trapped  them.  *That  won't 
do  you  any  good  either,'  and  he  wrote  once  more  in 
his  note-book  before  he  allowed  us  to  go. 

This  was  Woodhouse's  first  brush  with  motor  law. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  165 

and  since  I  expected  no  ill  consequences  to  myself,  I 
pointed  out  that  it  was  very  serious.  I  took  the  same 
view  myself  when  in  due  time  I  found  that  I,  too,  was 
summonsed  on  charges  ranging  from  the  use  of  obscene 
language  to  endangering  traffic. 

Judgment  was  done  in  a  little  pale-yellow  market- 
town  with  a  small.  Jubilee  clock-tower  and  a  large  corn- 
exchange.  Woodhouse  drove  us  there  in  his  car. 
Pallant,  who  had  not  been  included  in  the  summons, 
came  with  us  as  moral  support.  While  we  waited  out- 
side, the  fat  man  on  the  grey  horse  rode  up  and  entered 
into  loud  talk  with  his  brother  magistrates.  He  said 
to  one  of  them — for  I  took  the  trouble  to  note  it  down 
— *It  falls  away  from  my  lodge-gates,  dead  straight, 
three-quarters  of  a  mile.  Fd  defy  any  one  to  resist  it. 
We  rooked  seventy  pounds  out  of  'em  last  month.  No 
car  can  resist  the  temptation.  You  ought  to  have  one 
your  side  the  county,  Mike.  They  simply  can't  resist 
it.' 

*Whew!'  said  Woodhouse.  'We're  in  for  trouble. 
Don't  you  say  a  word — or  Ollyett  either!  I'll  pay 
the  fines  and  we'll  get  it  over  as  soon  as  possible. 
Where's  Pallant?' 

'At  the  back  of  the  court  somewhere,*  said  Ollyett. 
*I  saw  him  slip  in  just  now.' 

The  fat  man  then  took  his  seat  on  the  Bench,  of  which 
he  was  chairman,  and  I  gathered  from  a  bystander  that 
his  name  was  Sir  Thomas  Ingell,  Bart.,  M.P.,  of  Ingell 
Park,  Huckley.  He  began  with  an  allocution  pitched  in 
a  tone  that  would  have  justified   revolt  throughout 


i66         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

empires.  Evidence,  when  the  crowded  little  court  did 
not  drown  it  with  applause,  was  given  in  the  pauses  of 
the  address.  They  were  all  very  proud  of  their  Sir 
Thomas,  and  looked  from  him  to  us,  wondering  why  we 
did  not  applaud  too. 

Taking  its  time  from  the  chairman,  the  Bench  rol- 
licked with  us  for  seventeen  minutes.  Sir  Thomas  ex- 
plained that  he  was  sick  and  tired  of  processions  of  cads 
of  our  type,  who  would  be  better  employed  breaking 
stones  on  the  road  than  in  frightening  horses  worth  more 
than  themselves  or  their  ancestors.  This  was  after  it 
had  been  proved  that  Woodhouse's  man  had  turned  on 
the  horn  purposely  to  annoy  Sir  Thomas,  who  'hap- 
pened to  be  riding  by*  !  There  were  other  remarks  too 
— primitive  enough, — but  it  was  the  unspeakable  bru- 
tality of  the  tone,  even  more  than  the  quality  of  the 
justice,  or  the  laughter  of  the  audience  that  stung  our 
souls  out  of  all  reason.  When  we  were  dismissed — ^to 
the  tune  of  twenty-three  pounds,  twelve  shillings  and 
sixpence — ^we  waited  for  Pallant  to  join  us,  while  we 
listened  to  the  next  case — one  of  driving  without  a 
licence.  Ollyett  with  an  eye  to  his  evening  paper,  had 
alreaJy  taken  very  full  notes  of  our  own,  but  we  did  not 
wish  to  seem  prejudiced. 

'It's  all  right,'  said  the  reporter  of  the  local  paper 
soothingly.  'We  never  report  Sir  Thomas  in  extenso. 
Only  the  fines  and  charges.' 

'Oh,  thank  you,'  Ollyett  replied,  and  I  heard  him  ask 
who  every  one  in  court  might  be.  The  local  reporter 
was  very  communicative. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  167 

The  new  victim,  a  large,  flaxen-haired  man  in  some- 
what striking  clothes,  to  which  Sir  Thomas,  now 
thoroughly  warmed,  drew  public  attention,  said  that 
he  had  left  his  Hcence  at  home.  Sir  Thomas  asked 
him  if  he  expected  the  police  to  go  to  his  home  address 
at  Jerusalem  to  find  it  for  him;  and  the  court  roared. 
Nor  did  Sir  Thomas  approve  of  the  man's  name,  but 
insisted  on  calHng  him  *Mr.  Masquerader,'  and  every 
time  he  did  so,  all  his  people  shouted.  Evidently  this 
was  their  established  auto-da-fe. 

*He  didn't  summons  me — because  I'm  in  the  House, 
I  suppose.  I  think  I  shall  have  to  ask  a  Question,' 
said  Pallant,  reappearing  at  the  close  of  the  case. 

*I  think  /  shall  have  to  give  it  a  Httle  publicity  too,' 
said  Woodhouse.  *We  can't  have  this  kind  of  thing 
going  on,  you  know.'  His  face  was  set  and  quite  white. 
Pallant's,  on  the  other  hand,  was  black,  and  I  know  that 
my  very  stomach  had  turned  with  rage.  OUyett  was 
duma 

*Well,  let's  have  lunch,'  Woodhouse  said  at  last. 
*Then  we  can  get  away  before  the  show  breaks  up.' 

We  drew  Ollyett  from  the  arms  of  the  local  reporter, 
crossed  the  Market  Square  to  the  Red  Lion  and  found 
Sir  Thomas's  *Mr.  Masquerader'  just  sitting  down  to 
beer,  beef  and  pickles. 

*Ah!'  said  he,  in  a  large  voice.  'Companions  in 
misfortune.     Won't  you  gentlemen  join  me?' 

'Delighted,'  said  Woodhouse.     'What  did  you  get?' 

*I  haven't  decided.  It  might  make  a  good  turn,  but 
— the  public  aren't  educated  up  to  it  yet.     It's  beyond 


i68         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'em.     If  it  wasn't,  that  red  dub  on  the  Bench  would  be 
worth  fifty  a  week.' 

'Where?'  said  Woodhouse.  The  man  looked  at  him 
with  unaffected  surprise. 

*  At  any  one  of  My  places/  he  replied.  *  But  perhaps 
you  live  here  ? ' 

*  Good  heavens ! '  cried  young  Ollyett  suddenly.  *  You 
are  Masquerier,  then  1     I  thought  you  were ! ' 

*Bat  Masquerier.'  He  let  the  words  fall  with  the 
weight  of  an  international  ultimatum.  *  Yes,  that's  all 
I  am.     But  you  have  the  advantage  of  me,  gentlemen.' 

For  the  moment,  while  we  were  introducing  ourselves, 
I  was  puzzled.  Then  I  recalled  prismatic  music-hall 
posters — of  enormous  acreage — that  had  been  the  un- 
noticed background  of  my  visits  to  London  for  years 
past.  Posters  of  men  and  women,  singers,  jongleurs, 
impersonators  and  audacities  of  every  draped  and  un- 
draped  brand,  all  moved  on  and  off  in  London  and  the 
Provinces  by  Bat  Masquerier — with  the  long  wedge- 
tailed  flourish  following  the  final  *r.' 

'/  knew  you  at  once,'  said  Pallant,  the  trained  M.P., 
and  I  promptly  backed  the  lie.  Woodhouse  mumbled 
excuses.  Bat  Masquerier  was  not  moved  for  or  against 
us  any  more  than  the  frontage  of  one  of  his  own  palaces. 

*  I  always  tell  My  people  there's  a  limit  to  the  size  of 
the  lettering,'  he  said.  'Overdo  that  and  the  ret'na 
doesn't  take  it  in.  Advertisin'  is  the  most  delicate  of 
all  the  sciences.' 

'There's  one  man  in  the  world  who  is  going  to  get  a 
little  of  it  if  I  live  for  the  next  twenty-four  hours,' 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  169 

said  Woodhouse,  and  explained  how  this  would  come 
bout. 
Masquerier  stared  at  him  lengthily  with  gunmetal- 
blue  eyes. 

*  You  mean  it  ?'  he  drawled;  the  voice  was  as  magnetic 
as  the  look. 

*/  do,'  said  Ollyett.  *That  business  of  the  horn 
alone  ought  to  have  him  off  the  Bench  in  three  months.' 
Masquerier  looked  at  him  even  longer  than  he  had 
looked  at  Woodhouse. 

*He  told  m^,'  he  said  suddenly,  *that  my  home- 
address  was  Jerusalem.     You  heard  that?' 

*  But  it  was  the  tone — the  tone,'  Ollyett  cried. 
*You  noticed  that,  too,  did  you?'  said  Masquerier. 

'That's  the  artistic  temperament.  You  can  do  a  lot 
with  it.  And  I'm  Bat  Masquerier,'  he  went  on.  He 
dropped  his  chin  in  his  fists  and  scowled  straight  in 
front  of  him.  .  .  .  *I  made  the  Silhouettes — I 
made  the  Trefoil  and  the  Jocunda.  I  made  'Dal 
Benzaguen.'  Here  Ollyett  sat  straight  up,  for  in  com- 
mon with  the  youth  of  that  year  he  worshipped  Miss 
Vidal  Benzaguen  of  the  Trefoil  immensely  and  un- 
reservedly. *  "/j  that  a  dressing-gown  or  an  ulster 
you're  supposed  to  be  wearing?"  You  heard  that  ?  . 
.  .  "And  I  suppose  you  hadn't  time  to  brush  your 
hair  either?"  You  heard  that?  .  .  .  Now,  you 
hear  me  r  His  voice  filled  the  cofFee-room,  then 
dropped  to  a  whisper  as  dreadful  as  a  surgeon's  before 
an  operation.  He  spoke  for  several  minutes.  Pallant 
muttered  *Hear!  hear!'  I  saw  Ollyett's  eye  flash — it  was 


I70         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

to  OUyett  that  Masquerier  addressed  himself  chiefly, — 
and  Woodhouse  leaned  forward  with  joined  hands. 

'Are  you  with  me?'  he  went  on,  gathering  us  all  up 
in  one  sweep  of  the  arm.  *  When  I  begin  a  thing  I  see  it 
through,  gentlemen.  What  Bat  can't  break,  breaks 
him!  But  I  haven't  struck  that  thing  yet.  This  is  no 
one-turn  turn-it-down  show.  This  is  business  to  the 
dead  finish.  Are  you  with  me,  gentlemen.?  Good! 
Now,  we'll  pool  our  assets.  One  London  morning,  and 
one  provincial  daily,  didn't  you  say?  One  weekly  com- 
mercial ditto  and  one  M.P.' 

'Not  much  use,  I'm  afraid,'  Pallant  smirked. 

*  But  privileged.  5w^  privileged,' he  returned.  'And 
we  have  also  my  little  team — London,  Blackburn, 
Liverpool,  Leeds — I'll  tell  you  about  Manchester  later 
— and  Me!  Bat  Masquerier.'  He  breathed  the  name 
reverently  into  his  tankard.  'Gentlemen,  when  our 
combination  has  finished  with  Sir  Thomas  Ingell,  Bart., 
M.P.,  and  everything  else  that  is  his,  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah  will  be  a  winsome  bit  of  Merrie  England 
beside  'em.  I  must  go  back  to  town  now,  but  I  trust 
you  gentlemen  will  give  me  the  pleasure  of  your  com- 
pany at  dinner  to-night  at  the  Chop  Suey — the  Red 
Amber  Room — and  we'll  block  out  the  scenario.'  He 
laid  his  hand  on  young  Ollyett's  shoulder  and  added: 
'It's  your  brains  I  want.'  Then  he  left,  in  a  good  deal 
of  astrachan  collar  and  nickel-plated  limousine,  and 
the  place  felt  less  crowded. 

We  ordered  our  car  a  few  minutes  later.  As  Wood- 
house,  OUyett  and  I  were  getting  in.  Sir  Thomas  Ingell, 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  171 

Bart.,  M.P.,  came  out  of  the  Hall  of  Justice  across  the 
square  and  mounted  his  horse.  I  have  sometimes 
thought  that  if  he  had  gone  in  silence  he  might  even 
then  have  been  saved,  but  as  he  settled  himself  in  the 
saddle  he  caught  sight  of  us  and  must  needs  shout: 
*Not  off  yet?  You'd  better  get  away  and  you'd  better 
be  careful.'  At  that  moment  Pallant,  who  had  been 
buying  picture-postcards,  came  out  of  the  inn,  took  Sir 
Thomas's  eye  and  very  leisurely  entered  the  car.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  for  one  instant  there  was  a  shade 
of  uneasiness  on  the  baronet's  grey-whiskered  face. 

*I  hope,'  said  Woodhouse  after  several  miles,  'I 
hope  he's  a  widower.' 

*Yes,'  said  Pallant.  'For  his  poor,  dear  wife's  sake 
I  hope  that,  very  much  indeed.  I  suppose  he  didn't 
see  rae  in  Court.  Oh,  here's  the  parish  history  of 
Huckley  written  by  the  Rector  and  here's  your  share  of 
the  picture-postcards.  Are  we  all  dining  with  this  Mr. 
Masquerier  to-night.?' 

'Yes!'  said  we  all. 


If  Woodhouse  knew  nothing  of  journalism,  young 
Ollyett,  who  had  graduated  in  a  hard  school,  knew  a 
good  deal.  Our  halfpenny  evening  paper,  which  we 
will  call  The  Bun  to  distinguish  her  from  her  prosperous 
morning  sister,  The  Cake,  was  not  only  diseased  but 
corrupt.  We  found  this  out  when  a  man  brought  us  the 
prospectus  of  a  new  oil-field  and  demanded  sub-leaders 
on  its  prosperity.     Ollyett  talked  pure  Brasenose  to  him 


172         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

for  three  minutes.  Otherwise  he  spoke  and  wrote 
trade-English — a  toothsome  amalgam  of  Americanisms 
and  epigrams.  But  though  the  slang  changes  the 
game  never  alters,  and  Ollyett  and  I  and,  in  the  end, 
some  others  enjoyed  it  immensely.  It  was  weeks  ere 
we  could  see  the  wood  for  the  trees,  but  so  soon  as  the 
staff  realised  that  they  had  proprietors  who  backed 
them  right  or  wrong,  and  specially  when  they  were 
wrong  (which  is  the  sole  secret  of  journalism),  and  that 
their  fate  did  not  hang  on  any  passing  owner's  passing 
mood,  they  did  miracles. 

But  we  did  not  neglect  Huckley.  As  Ollyett  said  our 
first  care  was  to  create  an  *  arresting  atmosphere '  round 
it.  He  used  to  visit  the  village  of  week-ends,  on  a 
motor-bicycle  with  a  side-car;  for  which  reason  I  left 
the  actual  place  alone  and  dealt  with  it  in  the  abstract. 
Yet  it  was  I  who  drew  first  blood.  Two  inhabitants  of 
Huckley  wrote  to  contradict  a  small,  quite  solid  para- 
graph in  The  Bun  that  a  hoopoe  had  been  seen  at 
Huckley  and  had,  'of  course,  been  shot  by  the  local 
sportsmen.'  There  was  some  heat  in  their  letters,  both 
of  which  we  published.  Our  version  of  how  the  hoopoe 
got  his  crest  from  King  Solomon  was,  I  grieve  to  say, 
so  inaccurate  that  the  Rector  himself — no  sportsman 
as  he  pointed  out,  but  a  lover  of  accuracy — wrote  to  us 
to  correct  it.  We  gave  his  letter  good  space  and  thanked 
him. 

'This  priest  is  going  to  be  useful,'  said  Ollyett.  *He 
has  the  impartial  mind.     I  shall  vitalise  him.' 

Forthwith  he  created  M.  L.  Sigden,  a  recluse  of 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  173 

refined  tastes  who  in  The  Bun  demanded  to  know 
whether  this  Huckley-of-the-Hoopoe  was  the  Hugly  of 
his  boyhood  and  whether,  by  any  chance,  the  fell  change 
of  name  had  been  wrought  by  collusion  between  a  local 
magnate  and  the  railway,  in  the  mistaken  interests  of 
spurious  refinement.  *  For  I  knew  it  and  loved  it  with 
the  maidens  of  my  day — eheu  ah  angulo  ! — as  Hugly,* 
wrote  M.  L.  Sigden  from  Oxfo>r  q. 

Though  other  papers  scoffed.  The  Bun  was  gravely 
sympathetic.  Several  people  wrote  to  deny  that 
Huckley  had  been  changed  at  birth.  Only  the  Rector 
— no  philosopher  as  he  pointed  out,  but  a  lover  of 
accuracy — had  his  doubts,  which  he  laid  pubHcly  before 
Mr.  M.  L.  Sigden  who  suggested,  through  The  Bun,  that 
the  little  place  might  have  begun  life  in  Anglo-Saxon 
days  as  'Hogslea'  or  among  the  Normans  as  'Argile,' 
on  account  of  its  much  clay.  The  Rector  had  his  own 
ideas  too  (he  said  it  was  mostly  gravel),  and  M.  L. 
Sigden  had  a  fund  of  reminiscences.  Oddly  enough — 
which  is  seldom  the  case  with  free  reading-matter — our 
subscribers  rather  relished  the  correspondence,  and 
contemporaries  quoted  freely. 

*The  secret  of  power,'  said  Oily ett,  *is  not  the  big 
stick.  It's  the  liftable  stick.'  (This  means  the  'ar- 
resting' quotation  of  six  or  seven  lines.)  *Did  you  see 
the  Spec,  had  a  middle  on  **Rural  Tenacities"  last  week. 
That  was  all  Huckley.  I'm  doing  a  "Mobiquity"  on 
Huckley  next  week.' 

Our  *Mobiquities'  were  Friday  evening  accounts 
of  easy  motor-bike-cz^w-side-car  trips  round  London, 


174         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

illustrated  (we  could  never  get  that  machine  to  work 
properly)  by  smudgy  maps.  OUyett  wrote  the  stuff 
with  a  fervour  and  a  delicacy  which  I  always  ascribed 
to  the  side-car.  His  account  of  Epping  Forest,  for 
instance,  was  simply  young  love  with  its  soul  at  its  Hps. 
But  his  Huckley  *Mobiquity'  would  have  sickened  a 
soap-boiler.  It  chemically  combined  loathsome  famili- 
arity, leering  suggestion,  sHmy  piety  and  rancid  'social 
service'  in  one  fuming  compost  that  fairly  lifted  me  off 
my  feet. 

*Yes,'  said  he,  after  compliments.  'It's  the  most 
vital,  arresting  and  dynamic  bit  of  tump  I've  done  up  to 
date.  Non  nobis  gloria  !  I  met  Sir  Thomas  Ingell  in 
his  own  park.  He  talked  to  me  again.  He  inspired 
most  of  it.' 

'Which?  The  "glutinous  native  drawl,"  or  "the 
neglected  adenoidsof  the  village  children"?'  I  demanded. 

'Oh,  no!  That's  only  to  bring  in  the  panel  doctor. 
It's  the  last  flight  we — I'm  proudest  of.' 

This  dealt  with  'the  crepuscular  penumbra  spreading 
her  dim  Hmbs  over  the  boskage';  with  'jolly  rabbits'; 
with  a  herd  of  'gravid  polled  Angus';  and  with  the 
'arresting,  gipsy-like  face  of  their  swart,  scholarly 
owner — as  well  known  at  the  Royal  Agricultural  Shows 
as  that  of  our  late  King-Emperor.' 

*  "Swart"  is  good  and  so's  "gravid,"'  said  I,  'but 
the  panel  doctor  will  be  annoyed  about  the  adenoids.' 

'Not  half  as  much  as  Sir  Thomas  will  about  his  face,' 
said  Ollyett.  'And  if  you  only  knew  what  I've  left 
out!' 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  175 

He  was  right.  The  panel  doctor  spent  his  week-end 
(this  is  the  advantage  of  Friday  articles)  in  overwhelm- 
ing us  with  a  professional  counterblast  of  no  interest 
whatever  to  our  subscribers.  We  told  him  so,  and  he, 
then  and  there,  battered  his  way  with  it  into  the  Lancet 
where  they  are  keen  on  glands,  and  forgot  us  altogether. 
But  Sir  Thomas  Ingell  was  of  sterner  stuff.  He  must 
have  spent  a  happy  week-end  too.  The  letter  which 
we  received  from  him  on  Monday  proved  him  to  be  a 
kinless  loon  of  upright  life,  for  no  woman,  however 
remotely  interested  in  a  man  would  have  let  it  pass  the 
home  wastepaper-basket.  He  objected  to  our  refer- 
ences to  his  own  herd,  to  his  own  labours  in  his  own 
village,  which  he  said  was  a  Model  Village,  and  to  our 
infernal  insolence;  but  he  objected  most  to  our  invoice 
of  his  features.  We  wrote  him  courtously  to  ask 
whether  the  letter  was  meant  for  publication.  He, 
remembering,  I  presume,  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  wrote 
back,  'publish  and  be  damned.' 

*0h!  This  is  too  easy,'  Ollyett  said  as  he  began 
heading  the  letter. 

*Stop  a  minute,'  I  said.  *The  game  is  getting  a  little 
beyond  us.  To-night's  the  Bat  dinner.'  (I  may  have 
forgotten  to  tell  you  that  our  dinner  with  Bat  Masquer- 
ier  in  the  Red  Amber  Room  of  the  Chop  Suey  had  come 
to  be  a  weekly  affair.)  *Hold  it  over  till  they've  all 
seen  it.' 

'Perhaps  you're  right,'  he  said.     *You  might  waste 


it.' 


At  dinner,  then.   Sir  Thomas's  letter  was  handed 


176         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

round.  Bat  seemed  to  be  thinking  of  other  matters, 
but  Pallant  was  very  interested. 

Tve  got  an  idea,'  he  said  presently.  *  Could  you  put 
something  into  The  Bun  to-morrow  about  foot-and- 
mouth  disease  in  that  fellow's  herd?' 

*0h,  plague  if  you  like,'  Ollyett  replied.  *  They're 
only  five  measly  Shorthorns.  I  saw  one  lying  down  in 
the  park.     She'll  serve  as  a  sub-stratum  of  fact.' 

*Then,  do  that;  and  hold  the  letter  over  meanwhile. 
I  think  /  come  in  here,'  said  Pallant. 

'Why?'  said  I. 

'Because  there's  something  coming  up  in  the  House 
about  foot-and-mouth,  and  because  he  wrote  me  2 
letter  after  that  little  affair  when  he  fined  you.  'Tooli 
ten  days  to  think  it  over.  Here  you  are,'  said  Pallant, 
'House  of  Commons  paper,  you  see.' 

We  read: 

Dear  Pallant — Although  in  the  past  our  paths  have  noi 
lain  much  together,  I  am  sure  you  will  agree  with  me  that  on  tht 
floor  of  the  House  all  members  are  on  a  footing  of  equality.  ] 
make  bold,  therefore,  to  approach  you  in  a  matter  which  I  thinl 
capable  of  a  very  different  interpretation  from  that  which  perhapj 
was  put  upon  it  by  your  friends.  Will  you  let  them  know  thai 
that  was  the  case  and  that  I  was  in  no  way  swayed  by  animus  ir 
the  exercise  of  my  magisterial  duties,  which  as  you,  as  a  brothei 
magistrate,  can  imagine  are  frequently  very  distasteful  to — ^Youri 

very  sincerely, 

T.  Ingell. 

P.S. — I  have  seen  to  it  that  the  motor  vigilance  to  which  youi 
friends  took  exception  has  been  considerably  relaxed  in  my  district 

'What  did  you  answer?'  said  Ollyett,  when  all  oui 
opinions  had  been  expressed. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  177 

*I  told  him  I  couldn't  do  anything  in  the  matter. 
And  I  couldn't — then.  But  you'll  remember  to  put  in 
that  foot-and-mouth  paragraph.  I  want  something 
to  work  upon.' 

*It  seems  to  me  The  Bun  has  done  all  the  work  up 
to  date,'  I  suggested.  'When  does  The  Cake  come 
in?' 

*  The  Cakey  said  Woodhouse,  and  I  remembered  after- 
wards that  he  spoke  like  a  Cabinet  Minister  on  the 
eve  of  a  Budget,  'reserves  to  itself  the  fullest  right  to 
deal  with  situations  as  they  arise.' 

*Ye-eh!'  Bat  Masquerier  shook  himself  out  of  his 
thoughts.  '"Situations  as  they  arise."  I  ain't  idle 
either.  But  there's  no  use  fishing  till  the  swim's  baited. 
You' — he  turned  to  Ollyett — 'manufacture  very  good 

ground-bait.     ...     I    always   tell   My   people 

What  the  deuce  is  that?' 

There  was  a  burst  of  song  from  another  private  din- 
ing-room across  the  landing.  'It  ees  some  ladies  from 
the  Trefoil,'  the  waiter  began. 

'Oh,  I  know  that.     What  are  they  singing,  though?' 

He  rose  and  went  out,  to  be  greeted  by  shouts  of 
applause  from  that  merry  company.  Then  there  was 
silence,  such  as  one  hears  in  the  form-room  after  a 
master's  entry.  Then  a  voice  that  we  loved  began 
again:  'Here  we  go  gathering  nuts  in  May — nuts  in 
May — nuts  in  May!' 

'It's  only  'Dal — and  some  nuts,'  he  explained  when 
he  returned.  'She  says  she's  coming  in  to  dessert.' 
He  sat  down,  humming  the  old  tune  to  himself,  and  till 


178         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Miss  Vidal  Benzaguen  entered,  he  held  us  speechless 
with  tales  of  the  artistic  temperament. 

We  obeyed  Pallant  to  the  extent  of  slipping  into  The 
Bun  a  wary  paragraph  about  cows  lying  down  and 
dripping  at  the  mouth,  which  might  be  read  either  as  an 
unkind  libel  or,  in  the  hands  of  a  capable  lawyer,  as  a 
piece  of  faithful  nature-study. 

'And  besides,'  said  Ollyett,  'we  allude  to  "gravid 
polled  Angus."  I  am  advised  that  no  action  can  lie  in 
respect  of  virgin  Shorthorns.  Pallant  wants  us  to 
come  to  the  House  to-night.  He's  got  us  places  for  the 
Strangers'  Gallery.     I'm  beginning  to  Hke  Pallant.' 

*Masquerier  seems  to  like  you,'  I  said. 

*Yes,  but  I'm  afraid  of  him,'  Ollyett  answered  with 
perfect  sincerity.  *  I  am.  He's  the  Absolutely  Amoral 
Soul.     I've  never  met  one  yet.' 

We  went  to  the  House  together.  It  happened  to 
be  an  Irish  afternoon,  and  as  soon  as  I  had  got  the 
cries  and  the  faces  a  little  sorted  out,  I  gathered  there 
were  grievances  in  the  air,  but  how  many  of  them  was 
beyond  me. 

'It's  all  right,'  said  Ollyett  of  the  trained  ear. 
'They've  shut  their  ports  against — oh  yes — export  of 
Irish  cattle!  Foot-and-mouth  disease  at  BallyhelHon. 
/  see  Pallant's  idea!' 

The  House  was  certainly  all  mouth  for  the  moment, 
but,  as  I  could  feel,  quite  in  earnest.  A  Minister  with 
a  piece  of  typewritten  paper  seemed  to  be  fending  off 
volleys  of  insults.  He  reminded  me  somehow  of  a  nervous 
huntsman  breaking  up  a  fox  in  the  face  of  rabid  hounds. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  179 

'It's  question-time.  They're  asking  questions/  said 
OUyett.     'Look!    Pallant's  up.' 

There  was  no  mistaking  it.  His  voice,  which  his 
enemies  said  was  his  one  parliamentary  asset,  silenced 
the  hubbub  as  toothache  silences  mere  singing  in  the 
ears.     He  said: 

'Arising  out  of  that,  may  I  ask  if  any  special  consider- 
ation has  recently  been  shown  in  regard  to  any  sus- 
pected outbreak  of  this  disease  on  this  side  of  the  Chan- 
nel?' 

He  raised  his  hand;  it  held  a  noon  edition  of  The  Bun. 
We  had  thought  it  best  to  drop  the  paragraph  out  of 
the  later  ones.  He  would  have  continued,  but  some- 
thing in  a  grey  frock-coat  roared  and  bounded  on  a 
bench  opposite,  and  waved  another  Bun,  It  was  Sir 
Thomas  Ingell. 

'As  the  owner  of  the  herd  so  dastardly  implicated 

'    His  voice  was  drowned  in  shouts  of  'Order!' — 

the  Irish  leading. 

'What's  wrong?'  I  asked  Ollyett.  'He's  got  his  hat 
on  his  head,  hasn't  he?' 

'Yes,  but  his  wrath  should  have  been  put  as  a  ques- 
tion.' 

'Arising  out  of  that,  Mr.  Speaker,  Sirrr!'  Sir  Thomas 
bellowed  through  a  lull,  'are  you  aware  that — that  all 
this  is  a  conspiracy — part  of  a  dastardly  conspiracy 
to  make  Huckley  ridiculous — to  make  us  ridiculous? 
Part  of  a  deep-laid  plot  to  make  me  ridiculous,  Mr. 
Speaker,  Sir!' 

The  man's  face  showed   almost  black  against  his 


i8o         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

white  whiskers,  and  he  struck  out  swimmingly  with  his 
arms.  His  vehemence  puzzled  and  held  the  House  for 
an  instant,  and  the  Speaker  took  advantage  of  it  to 
lift  his  pack  from  Ireland  to  a  new  scent.  He  addressed 
Sir  Thomas  Ingell  in  tones  of  measured  rebuke,  meant 
also,  I  imagine,  for  the  whole  House,  which  lowered 
its  hackles  at  the  word.  Then  Pallant,  shocked  and 
pained:  *I  can  only  express  my  profound  surprise  that 
in  response  to  my  simple  question  the  honourable  mem- 
ber should  have  thought  fit  to  indulge  in  a  personal 
attack.     If  I  have  in  any  way  offended ' 

Again  the  Speaker  intervened,  for  it  appeared  that 
he  regulated  these  matters. 

He,  too,  expressed  surprise,  and  Sir  Thomas  sat  back 
in  a  hush  of  reprobation  that  seemed  to  have  the  chill 
of  the  centuries  behind  it.  The  Empire's  work  was 
resumed. 

*  Beautiful !'  said  I,  and  I  felt  hot  and  cold  up  my  back. 
*And  now  we'll  publish  his  letter,'  said  Ollyett. 

We  did — on  the  heels  of  his  carefully  reported  out- 
burst. We  made  no  comment.  With  that  rare  instinct 
for  grasping  the  heart  of  a  situation  which  is  the  mark 
of  the  Anglo-Saxon,  all  our  contemporaries  and,  I  should 
say,  two-thirds  of  our  correspondents  demanded  how 
such  a  person  could  be  made  more  ridiculous  than  he 
had  already  proved  himself  to  be.  But  beyond  spelling 
his  name  *Injle,'  we  alone  refused  to  hit  a  man  when  he 
was  down. 

*  There's  no  need,'  said  Ollyett.  *The  whole  press  is 
on  the  buckle  from  end  to  end.' 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  i8i 

Even  Woodhouse  was  a  little  astonished  at  the  ease 
with  which  it  had  come  about,  and  said  as  much. 

*Rotr  said  Ollyett.  *We  haven't  really  begun. 
Huckley  isn't  news  yet.' 

*What  do  you  mean?'  said  Woodhouse,  who  had 
grown  to  have  great  respect  for  his  young  but  by  no 
means  distant  connection. 

*  Mean  ?  By  the  grace  of  God,  Master  Ridley,  I  mean 
to  have  it  so  that  when  Huckley  turns  over  in  its  sleep, 
Reuters  and  the  Press  Association  jump  out  of  bed  to 
cable.'  Then  he  went  off  at  score  about  certain  restora- 
tions in  Huckley  Church  which,  he  said — and  he  seemed 
to  spend  his  every  week-end  there — had  been  perpe- 
trated by  the  Rector's  predecessor,  who  had  abolished 
a  *  leper-window'  or  a  *squinch-hole'  (whatever  these 
may  be)  to  institute  a  lavatory  in  the  vestry.  It  did 
not  strike  me  as  stuff  for  which  Reuters  or  the  Press 
Association  would  lose  much  sleep,  and  I  left  him  de- 
claiming to  Woodhouse  about  a  fourteenth-century 
font  which,  he  said,  he  had  unearthed  in  the  sexton's 
tool-shed. 

My  methods  were  more  on  the  lines  of  peaceful  pene- 
tration. An  odd  copy,  in  The  Buns  rag-and-bone 
library,  of  Hone's  Every-Day  Book  had  revealed  to  me 
the  existence  of  a  village  dance  founded,  Hke  all  village 
dances,  on  Druidical  mysteries  connected  with  the  Solar 
Solstice  (which  is  always  unchallengeable)  and  Mid- 
summer Morning,  which  is  dewy  and  refreshing  to  the 
London  eye.  For  this  I  take  no  credit — Hone  being  a 
mine  any  one  can  work — but  that  I  rechristened  that 


i82         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

dance,  after  I  had  revised  it,  *The  Gubby'  is  my  title  to 
immortal  fame.  It  was  still  to  be  witnessed,  I  wrote, 
*in  all  its  poignant  purity  at  Huckley,  that  last  home  of 
significant  mediaeval  survivals' ;  and  I  fell  so  in  love  with 
my  creation  that  I  kept  it  back  for  days,  enameUing  and 
burnishing. 

*You's  better  put  it  in,'  said  Ollyett  at  last.  *It's 
time  we  asserted  ourselves  again.  The  other  fellows 
are  beginning  to  poach.  You  saw  that  thing  in  the 
Pinnacle  about  Sir  Thomas's  Model  Village?  He  must 
have  got  one  of  their  chaps  down  to  do  it.' 

*  'Nothing  like  the  wounds  of  a  friend,'  I  said.  'That 
account  of  the  non-alcoholic  pub  alone  was ' 

*I  liked  the  bit  best  about  the  white-tiled  laundry 
and  the  Fallen  Virgins  who  wash  Sir  Thomas's  dress 
shirts.  Our  side  couldn't  come  within  a  mile  of  that, 
you  know.  We  haven't  the  proper  flair  for  sexual 
slobber.' 

'That's  what  I'm  always  saying,'  I  retorted.  *  Leave 
'em  alone.  The  other  fellows  are  doing  our  work  for 
us  now.  Besides  I  want  to  touch  up  my  "Gubby 
Dance"  a  little  more.' 

*No.  You'll  spoil  it.  Let's  shove  it  in  to-day. 
For  one  thing  it's  Literature.  I  don't  go  in  for  compli- 
ments as  you  know,  but,  etc.  etc' 

I  had  a  healthy  suspicion  of  young  Ollyett  in  every 
aspect,  but  though  I  knew  that  I  should  have  to  pay 
for  it,  I  fell  to  his  flattery,  and  my  priceless  article  on 
the  *Gubby  Dance'  appeared.  Next  Saturday  he 
asked  me  to  bring  out  The  Bun  in  his  absence,  which  I 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  183 

naturally  assumed  would  be  connected  with  the  little 
maroon  side-car.     I  was  wrong. 

On  the  following  Monday  I  glanced  at  The  Cake  at 
breakfast-time  to  make  sure,  as  usual,  of  her  inferiority 
to  my  beloved  but  unremunerative  Bun.  I  opened  on 
a  heading:  *The  Village  that  Voted  the  Earth  was 
Flat.*  I  read  .  .  .1  read  that  the  Geoplanarian 
Society — a  society  devoted  to  the  proposition  that  tlie 
earth  is  flat — had  held  its  Annual  Banquet  and  Exer- 
cises at  Huckley  on  Saturday,  when  after  convincing 
addresses,  amid  scenes  of  the  greatest  enthusiasm, 
Huckley  village  had  decided  by  an  unanimous  vote  of 
438  that  the  earth  was  flat.  I  do  not  remember  that  I 
breathed  again  till  I  had  finished  the  two  columns  of 
description  that  followed.  Only  one  man  could  have 
written  them.  They  were  flawless — crisp,  nervous, 
austere  yet  human,  poignant,  vital,  arresting — most 
distinctly  arresting — dynamic  enough  to  shift  a  city — 
and  quotable  by  whole  sticks  at  a  time.  And  there  was 
a  leader,  a  grave  and  poised  leader,  which  tore  me  in 
two  with  mirth,  until  I  remembered  that  I  had  been 
left  out — infamously  and  unjustifiably  dropped.  I 
went  to  Ollyett's  rooms.  He  was  breakfasting,  and, 
to  do  him  justice,  looked  conscience-stricken. 

*It  wasn't  my  fault,'  he  began.  *It  was  Bat  Mas- 
querier.  I  swear  /  would  have  asked  you  to  come 
if ' 

*  Never  mind  that,'  I  said.  *It's  the  best  bit  of 
work  you've  ever  done  or  will  do.  Did  any  of  it  hap- 
pen?' 


1 84         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Happen?  Heavens!  D'you  think  even  /  could 
have  invented  it?' 

*Is  it  exclusive  to  The  Cake  ?'  I  cried. 

*It  cost  Bat  Masquerier  two  thousand,'  Ollyett  re- 
plied. *D'you  think  he'd  let  any  one  else  in  on  that? 
But  I  give  you  my  sacred  word  I  knew  nothing  about 
it  till  he  asked  me  to  come  down  and  cover  it.  He  had 
Huckley  posted  in  three  colours,  "The  Geoplanarians' 
Annual  Banquet  and  Exercises."  Yes,  he  invented 
"Geoplanarians."  He  wanted  Huckley  to  think  it 
meant  aeroplanes.  Yes,  I  know  that  there  is  a  real 
Society  that  thinks  the  world's  flat — they  ought  to  be 
grateful  for  the  lift — but  Bat  made  his  own.  He  did! 
He  created  the  whole  show,  I  tell  you.  He  swept  out 
half  his  Halls  for  the  job.  Think  of  that — on  a  Satur- 
day! They — we  went  down  in  motor  char-a-bancs — 
three  of  'em — one  pink,  one  primrose,  and  one  forget- 
me-not  blue — twenty  people  in  each  one  and  "The 
Earth  is  Flat"  on  each  side  and  across  the  back.  I 
went  with  Teddy  Rickets  and  Lafone  from  the  Trefoil, 
and  both  the  Silhouette  Sisters,  and — ^wait  a  minute! — 
the  Crossleigh  Trio.  You  know  the  Every-Day  Dramas 
Trio  at  the  Jocunda — Ada  Crossleigh,  "Bunt"  Cross- 
leigh, and  Httle  Victorine?  Them.  And  there  was 
Hoke  Ramsden,  the  lightning-change  chap  in  Morgiana 
and  Drexel — and  there  was  Billy  Turpeen.  Yes,  you 
know  him!  The  North  London  Star.  "I'm  the 
Referee  that  got  himself  disliked  at  Blackheath." 
That  chap!  And  there  was  Mackaye — that  one-eyed 
Scotch  fellow  that  all  Glasgow  is  crazy  about.     Talk 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  185 

of  subordinating  yourself  for  Art's  sake!  Mackaye  was 
the  earnest  inquirer  who  got  converted  at  the  end  of  the 
meeting.  And  there  was  quite  a  lot  of  girls  I  didn't 
know,  and — oh,  yes — there  was  'Dal  I  'Dal  Benzaguen 
herself!  We  sat  together,  going  and  coming.  She's 
all  the  darling  there  ever  was.  She  sent  you  her  love, 
and  she  told  me  to  tell  you  that  she  won't  forget  about 
Nellie  Farren.  She  says  you've  given  her  an  ideal  to 
work  for.  She .?  Oh,  she  was  the  Lady  Secretary  to  the 
Geoplanarians,  of  course.  I  forget  who  were  in  the 
other  brakes — provincial  stars  mostly — but  they  played 
up  gorgeously.  The  art  of  the  music-hall's  changed 
since  your  day.  They  didn't  overdo  it  a  bit.  You  see, 
people  who  believe  the  earth  is  flat  don't  dress  quite  like 
other  people.  You  may  have  noticed  that  I  hinted 
at  that  in  my  account.  It's  a  rather  flat-fronted  Ionic 
style — neo- Victorian,  except  for  the  bustles,  'Dal  told 
me, — but  *Dal  looked  heavenly  in  it!  So  did  little 
Victorine.  And  there  was  a  girl  in  the  blue  brake — 
she's  a  provincial — but  she's  coming  to  town  this  winter 
and  she'll  knock  'em — Winnie  Deans.  Remember  that ! 
She  told  Huckley  how  she  had  suffered  for  the  Cause  as 
a  governess  in  a  rich  family  where  they  believed  that 
the  world  is  round,  and  how  she  threw  up  her  job  sooner 
than  teach  immoral  geography.  That  was  at  the  over- 
flow meeting  outside  the  Baptist  chapel.  She  knocked 
*em  to  sawdust !  We  must  look  out  for  Winnie.  ,  .  . 
But  Lafone!  Lafone  was  beyond  everything.  Im- 
pact, personality — conviction — the  whole  bag  o'  tricks! 
He  sweated  conviction.     Gad,  he  convinced  me  while 


i86         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

he  was  speaking!  (Him?  He  was  President  of  th 
Geoplanarians,  of  course.  Haven't  you  read  my  ac 
count?)  It  is  an  infernally  plausible  theory.  Afte 
all,  no  one  has  actually  proved  the  earth  is  round,  hav 
they?' 

'Never  mind  the  earth.  What  about  Huckley?* 
*0h,  Huckley  got  tight.  That's  the  worst  of  thes 
model  villages  if  you  let  'em  smell  fire-water.  There' 
one  alcoholic  pub  in  the  place  that  Sir  Thomas  can' 
get  rid  of.  Bat  made  it  his  base.  He  sent  down  th 
banquet  in  two  motor  lorries — dinner  for  five  hundrei 
and  drinks  for  ten  thousand.  Huckley  voted  all  right 
Don't  you  make  any  mistake  about  that.  No  vote,  n^ 
dinner.  A  unanimous  vote — exactly  as  I've  said.  A 
least,  the  Rector  and  the  Doctor  were  the  only  dissen 
tients.  We  didn't  count  them.  Oh  yes.  Sir  Thoma 
was  there.  He  came  and  grinned  at  us  through  hi 
park  gates.  He'll  grin  worse  to-day.  There's  an  ani 
line  dye  that  you  rub  through  a  stencil-plate  that  eat 
about  a  foot  into  any  stone  and  wears  good  to  the  last 
Bat  had  both  the  lodge-gates  stencilled  "The  Earth  i 
flat!"  and  all  the  barns  and  walls  they  could  get  at 
.  .  .  Oh  Lord,  but  Huckley  was  drunk!  We  hac 
to  fill  'em  up  to  make  'em  forgive  us  for  not  being  aero 
planes.  Unthankful  yokels!  D'you  realise  that  Em 
perors  couldn't  have  commanded  the  talent  Bat  de 
canted  on  'em  ?  Why,  'Dal  alone  was.  .  .  .  An( 
by  eight  o'clock  not  even  a  bit  of  paper  left !  The  whol( 
show  packed  up  and  gone,  and  Huckley  hoo-raying  fo 
the  earth  being  flat.' 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  187 

*Very  good,'  I  began.  *I  am,  as  you  know,  a  one- 
third  proprietor  of  The  Bun.* 

*I  didn't  forget  that,'  Ollyett  interrupted.  'That 
was  uppermost  in  my  mind  all  the  time.  I've  got  a 
special  account  for  The  Bun  to-day — it's  an  idyll — 
and  just  to  show  how  I  thought  of  you,  I  told  'Dal,  com- 
ing home,  about  your  Gubby  Dance,  and  she  told  Win- 
nie. Winnie  came  back  in  our  char-a-banc.  After  a 
bit  we  had  to  get  out  and  dance  it  in  a  field.  It's  quite 
a  dance  the  way  we  did  it — and  Lafone  invented  a  sort 
of  gorilla  lockstep  procession  at  the  end.  Bat  had  sent 
down  a  film-chap  on  the  chance  of  getting  something. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  clergyman — a  most  dynamic  per- 
sonality. He  said  there  isn't  anything  for  the  cinema 
in  meetings  qua  meetings — they  lack  action.  Films 
are  a  branch  of  art  by  themselves.  But  he  went  wild 
over  the  Gubby.  He  said  it  was  like  Peter's  vision  at 
Joppa.  He  took  about  a  million  feet  of  it.  Then  I 
photoed  it  exclusive  for  The  Bun.  I've  sent  'em  in 
already,  only  remember  we  must  eliminate  Winnie's 
left  leg  in  the  first  figure.  It's  too  arresting.  .  .  . 
And  there  you  are!  But  I  tell  you  I'm  afraid  of  Bat. 
That  man's  the  Personal  Devil.  He  did  it  all.  He 
didn't  even  come  down  himself.  He  said  he'd  distract 
his  people.' 

'Why  didn't  he  ask  me  to  come?'  I  persisted. 

'Because  he  said  you'd  distract  me.  He  said  he 
wanted  my  brains  on  ice.  He  got  'em.  I  believe  it's 
the  best  thing  I've  ever  done.'  He  reached  for  The 
Cake  and  re-read  it  luxuriously.     *Yes,  out  and  away 


188         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

the  best — supremely  quotable,'  he  concluded,  and — 
after  another  survey — *By  God,  what  a  genius  I  was 
yesterday!' 

I  would  have  been  angry,  but  I  had  not  the  time. 
That  morning.  Press  agencies  grovelled  to  me  in  The 
Bun  office  for  leave  to  use  certain  photos,  which,  they 
understood,  I  controlled,  of  a  certain  village  dance. 
When  I  had  sent  the  fifth  man  away  on  the  edge  of 
tears,  my  self-respect  came  back  a  little.  Then  there 
was  The  Buris  poster  to  get  out.  Art  being  elimination, 
I  fined  it  down  to  two  words  (one  too  many,  as  it  proved) 
— *The  Gubby !'  in  red,  at  which  our  manager  protested; 
but  by  five  o'clock  he  told  me  that  I  was  the  Napoleon 
of  Fleet  Street.  Ollyett's  account  in  The  Bun  of  the 
Geoplanarians'  Exercises  and  Love  Feast  lacked  the 
supreme  shock  of  his  version  in  The  Cake,  but  it  bruised 
more;  while  the  photos  of  *The  Gubby'  (which,  with 
Winnie's  left  leg,  was  why  I  had  set  the  doubtful  press 
to  work  so  early)  were  beyond  praise  and,  next  day, 
beyond  price.     But  even  then  I  did  not  understand. 

A  week  later,  I  think  it  was.  Bat  Masquerier  tele- 
phoned to  me  to  come  to  the  Trefoil. 

*It's  your  turn  now,'  he  said.  'I'm  not  asking  011- 
yett.     Come  to  the  stage-box.' 

I  went,  and,  as  Bat's  guest,  was  received  as  Royalty 
is  not.  We  sat  well  back  and  looked  out  on  the  packed 
thousands.  It  was  Morgiana  and  Drexel,  that  fluid  and 
electric  review  which  Bat — though  he  gave  Lafone  the 
credit — really  created. 

*Ye-es/  said  Bat  dreamily,  after  Morgiana  had  given 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  189 

*the  nasty  jar'  to  the  Forty  Thieves  in  their  forty  oil 
'combinations/  *As  you  say,  IVe  got  'em  and  I  can 
hold  'em.  What  a  man  does  doesn't  matter  much; 
and  how  he  does  it  don't  matter  either.  It's  the  when — 
the  psychological  moment.  'Press  can't  make  up  for 
it;  money  can't;  brains  can't.  A  lot's  luck,  but  all  the 
rest  is  genius.  I'm  not  speaking  about  My  people  now. 
I'm  talking  of  Myself.' 

Then  'Dal — she  was  the  only  one  who  dared — 
knocked  at  the  door  and  stood  behind  us  all  alive  and 
panting  as  Morgiana.  Lafone  was  carrying  the  poHce- 
court  scene,  and  the  house  was  ripped  up  crossways  with 
laughter. 

*Ah!  Tell  a  fellow  now,'  she  asked  me  for  the  twen- 
tieth time,  *did  you  love  Nellie  Farren  when  you  were 
young?' 

*Did  we  love  her?'  I  answered.  *"If  the  earth  and 
the  sky  and  the  sea" — There  were  three  million  of  us, 
'Dal,  and  we  worshipped  her/ 

'How  did  she  get  it  across  ?'     Dal  went  on. 

*She  was  Nellie.  The  houses  used  to  coo  over  her 
when  she  came  on.' 

'I've  had  a  good  deal,  but  I've  never  been  cooed  over 
yet,'  said  'Dal  wistfully. 

*It  isn't  the  how,  it's  the  when,'  Bat  repeated.    'Ah!' 

He  leaned  forward  as  the  house  began  to  rock  and 
peal  full-thro atedly.  'Dal  fled.  A  sinuous  and  silent 
procession  was  filing  into  the* police-court  to  a  scarcely 
audible  accompaniment.  It  was  dressed — but  the 
world  and   all  its  picture-palaces  know  how  it  was 


I90         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

dressed.  It  danced  and  it  danced,  and  it  danced  the 
dance  which  bit  all  humanity  in  the  leg  for  half  a  year, 
and  it  wound  up  with  the  lockstep  finale  that  mowed  the 
house  down  in  swathes,  sobbing  and  aching.  Some- 
body in  the  gallery  moaned,  *0h  Gord,  the  Gubby !'  and 
we  heard  the  word  run  Hke  a  shudder,  for  they  had  not 
a  full  breath  left  among  them.  Then  'Dal  came  on, 
an  electric  star  in  her  dark  hair,  the  diamonds  flashing 
in  her  three-inch  heels — a  vision  that  made  no  sign  for 
thirty  counted  seconds  while  the  police-court  scene 
dissolved  behind  her  into  Morgiana's  Manicure  Palace, 
and  they  recovered  themselves.  The  star  on  her  fore- 
head went  out,  and  a  soft  light  bathed  her  as  she  took — 
slowly,  slowly  to  the  croon  of  adoring  strings — the 
eighteen  paces  forward.  We  saw  her  first  as  a  queen 
alone;  next  as  a  queen  for  the  first  time  conscious  of  her 
subjects,  and  at  the  end,  when  her  hands  fluttered,  as  a 
woman  delighted,  awed  not  a  little,  but  transfigured 
and  illuminated  with  sheer,  compelling  aff'ection  and 
goodwill.  I  caught  the  broken  mutter  of  welcome — 
the  coo  which  is  more  than  tornadoes  of  applause.  It 
died  and  rose  and  died  again  lovingly. 

*She's  got  it  across,'  Bat  whispered.  'I've  never 
seen  her  like  this.  I  told  her  to  light  up  the  star,  but 
I  was  wrong,  and  she  knew  it.     She's  an  artist.' 

"Dal,  you  darling!'  some  one  spoke,  not  loudly  but 
it  carried  through  the  house. 

*  Thank  you!*  'Dal  answered,  and  in  that  broken 
tone  one  heard  the  last  fetter  riveted.  'Good  evening, 
boys!    I've  just  come  from — now — ^where  the  dooce 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  191 

was  It  I  have  come  from  ?'  She  turned  to  the  impassive 
files  of  the  Gubby  dancers,  and  went  on:  *Ah,  so  good 
of  you  to  remind  me,  you  dear,  bun-faced  things.  IVe 
just  come  from  the  village — ^The  Village  that  Voted  the 
Earth  was  Flat/ 

She  swept  into  that  song  with  the  full  orchestra. 
It  devastated  the  habitable  earth  for  the  next  six 
months.  Imagine,  then,  what  its  rage  and  pulse  must 
have  been  at  the  incandescent  hour  of  its  birth!  She 
only  gave  the  chorus  once.  At  the  end  of  the  second 
verse,  *Are  you  with  me,  boys?'  she  cried,  and  the 
house  tore  it  clean  away  from  her — 'Earth  was  flat — 
Earth  was  flat.  Flat  as  my  hat — Flatter  than  that' — 
drowning  all  but  the  bassoons  and  double-basses  that 
marked  the  word. 

'Wonderful,'  I  said  to  Bat.  'And  it's  only  "Nuts  in 
May,"  with  variations.' 

'Yes — but  /  did  the  variations,'  he  replied. 

At  the  last  verse  she  gestured  to  Carlini  the  con- 
ductor, who  threw  her  up  his  baton.  She  caught  it 
with  a  boy's  ease.  *Are  you  with  me?'  she  cried  once 
more,  and — the  maddened  house  behind  her — abolished 
all  the  instruments  except  the  guttural  belch  of  the 
double-basses  on  'Earth' — *The  Village  that  voted  the 
Earth  was  flat — Earth  was  flat!'  It  was  delirium.  Then 
she  picked  up  the  Gubby  dancers  and  led  them  in  a 
clattering  improvised  lockstep  thrice  round  the  stage 
till  her  last  kick  sent  her  diamond-hilted  shoe  Catherine- 
wheeling  to  the  electrolier. 

I  saw  the  forest  of  hands  raised  to  catch  it,  heard  the 


192         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

roaring  and  stamping  pass  through  hurricanes  to  full 
typhoon;  heard  the  song,  pinned  down  by  the  faithful 
double-basses  as  the  bull-dog  pins  down  the  bellowing 
bull,  overbear  even  those;  till  at  last  the  curtain  fell  and 
Bat  took  me  round  to  her  dressing-room,  where  she  lay 
spent  after  her  seventh  call.  Still  the  song,  through 
all  those  white-washed  walls,  shook  the  reinforced 
concrete  of  the  Trefoil  as  steam  pile-drivers  shake  the 
flanks  of  a  dock. 

*rm  all  out — first  time  in  my  life.  Ah!  Tell  a 
fellow  now,  did  I  get  it  across  ? '  she  whispered  huskily. 

'You  know  you  did,'  I  replied  as  she  dipped  her  nose 
deep  in  a  beaker  of  barley-water.  *They  cooed  over 
you.' 

Bat  nodded.  'And  poor  Nellie's  dead — in  Africa, 
ain't  it?' 

*I  hope  I'll  die  before  they  stop  cooing,'  said  'Dal. 

'''Earth  was  flat — Earth  was  flat!"'  Now  it  was 
more  like  mine-pumps  in  flood. 

'They'll  have  the  house  down  if  you  don't  take 
another,'  some  one  called. 

'Bless  'em!'  said  'Dal,  and  went  out  for  her  eighth, 
when  in  the  face  of  that  cataract  she  said  yawning, 
*I  don't  know  how  you  feel,  children,  but  /'m  dead. 
You  be  quiet.' 

'Hold  a  minute,'  said  Bat  to  me.  'I've  got  to  hear 
how  it  went  in  the  provinces.  Winnie  Deans  had  it  in 
Manchester,  and  Ramsden  at  Glasgow — and  there  are 
all  the  films  too.     I  had  rather  a  heavy  week-end.' 

The  telephones  presently  reassured  him. 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  193 

'It'll  do/  said  he.  *And  he  said  my  home  address 
was  Jerusalem/  He  left  me  humming  the  refrain  of 
*The  Holy  City/  Like  Ollyett  I  found  myself  afraid 
of  that  man. 

When  I  got  out  into  the  street  and  met  the  disgorging 
picture-palaces  capering  on  the  pavements  and  humming 
it  (for  he  had  put  the  gramophones  on  with  the  films), 
and  when  I  saw  far  to  the  south  the  red  electrics  flash 
*Gubby*  across  the  Thames,  I  feared  more  than  ever. 


A  few  days  passed  which  were  like  nothing  except, 
perhaps,  a  suspense  of  fever  in  which  the  sick  man  per- 
ceives the  searchlights  of  the  world's  assembled  navies 
in  act  to  converge  on  one  minute  fragment  of  wreckage 
— one  only  in  all  the  black  and  agony-strewn  sea.  Then 
those  beams  focussed  themselves.  Earth  as  we  knew  it 
— the  full  circuit  of  our  orb — laid  the  weight  of  its 
impersonal  and  searing  curiosity  on  this  Huckley  which 
had  voted  that  it  was  flat.  It  asked  for  news  about 
Huckley — ^where  and  what  it  might  be,  and  how  it 
talked — it  knew  how  it  danced — and  how  it  thought 
in  its  wonderful  soul.  And  then,  in  all  the  zealous, 
merciless  press,  Huckley  was  laid  out  for  it  to  look  at, 
as  a  drop  of  pond  water  is  exposed  on  the  sheet  of  a 
magic-lantern  show.  But  Huckley's  sheet  was  only 
coterminous  with  the  use  of  type  among  mankind. 
For  the  precise  moment  that  was  necessary.  Fate  ruled 
it  that  there  should  be  nothing  of  first  importance  in 
the  world's  idle  eye.     One  atrocious  murder,  a  political 


194         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

crisis,  an  incautious  or  heady  continental  statesman, 
the  mere  catarrh  of  a  king,  would  have  wiped  out  the 
significance  of  our  message,  as  a  passing  cloud  annuls 
the  urgent  helio.  But  it  was  halcyon  weather  in  every 
respect.  Ollyett  and  I  did  not  need  to  hft  our  little 
fingers  any  more  than  the  Alpine  climber  whose  last 
sentence  has  unkeyed  the  arch  of  the  avalanche.  The 
thing  roared  and  pulverised  and  swept  beyond  eyesight 
all  by  itself — all  by  itself.  And  once  well  away,  the 
fall  of  kingdoms  could  not  have  diverted  it. 

Ours  is,  after  all,  a  kindly  earth.  While  The  Song 
ran  and  raped  it  with  the  cataleptic  kick  of  'Ta-ra-ra- 
boom-de-ay,'  multiplied  by  the  West  African  signifi-- 
cance  of  '  Everybody's  doing  it,'  plus  twice  the  infernal 
elementality  of  a  certain  tune  in  Dona  et  Gamma;  when 
for  all  practical  purposes,  literary,  dramatic,  artistic, 
social,  municipal,  political,  commercial,  and  adminis- 
trative, the  Earth  was  flat,  the  Rector  of  Huckley 
wrote  to  us — again  as  a  lover  of  accuracy — to  point  out 
that  the  Huckley  vote  on  *the  alleged  flatness  of  this 
scene  of  our  labours  here  below'  was  not  unanimous;  he 
and  the  doctor  having  voted  against  it.  And  the  great 
Baron  Renter  himself  (I  am  sure  it  could  have  been 
none  other)  flashed  that  letter  in  full  to  the  front,  back, 
and  both  wings  of  this  scene  of  our  labours.  For 
Huckley  was  News.  The  Bun  also  contributed  a  photo- 
graph which  cost  me  some  trouble  to  fake. 

*We  are  a  vital  nation,'  said  Ollyett  while  we  were 
discussing  affairs  at  a  Bat  dinner.  *  Only  an  Englishman 
could  have  written  that  letter  at  this  present  juncture.' 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  195 

*It  reminded  me  of  a  tourist  in  the  Cave  of  the  Winds 
under  Niagara.  Just  one  figure  in  a  mackintosh. 
But  perhaps  you  saw  our  photo?'     I  said  proudly. 

*Yes,'  Bat  replied.  Tve  been  to  Niagara,  too. 
And  how's  Huckley  taking  it?' 

*They  don't  quite  understand,  of  course,'  said  OUyett. 
^But  it's  bringing  pots  of  money  into  the  place.  Ever 
since  the  motor-bus  excursions  were  started ' 

*I  didn't  know  they  had  been,'  said  Pallant. 

*0h  yes.  Motor  char-a-bancs — uniformed  guides 
and  key-bugles  included.  They're  getting  a  bit  fed  up 
with  the  tune  there  nowadays,'  Ollyett  added. 

*They  play  it  under  his  windows,  don't  they?'  Bat 
asked.     *He  can't  stop  the  right  of  way  across  his  park.' 

*He  cannot,'  Ollyett  answered.  *By  the  way, 
Woodhouse,  I've  bought  that  font  for  you  from  the 
sexton.     I  paid  fifteen  pounds  for  it.' 

'What  am  I  supposed  to  do  with  it?'  asked  Wood- 
house. 

*You  give  it  to  the  Victoria  and  Albert  Museum. 
It  is  fourteenth-century  work  all  right.  You  can  trust 
me.' 

*Is  it  worth  it — now?'  said  Pallant.  *Not  that  I'm 
weakening,  but  merely  as  a  matter  of  tactics?' 

*But  this  is  true,'  said  Ollyett.  'Besides,  it  is  my 
hobby,  I  always  wanted  to  be  an  architect.  I'll  attend 
to  it  myself.  It's  too  serious  for  The  Bun  and  miles 
too  good  for  The  Cake.* 

He  broke  ground  in  a  ponderous  architectural  weekly, 
which  had  never  heard  of  Huckley.     There  was  no 


196         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

passion  in  his  statement,  but  mere  fact  backed  by  a 
wide  range  of  authorities.  He  estabHshed  beyond 
doubt  that  the  old  font  at  Huckley  had  been  thrown 
out,  on  Sir  Thomas's  instigation,  twenty  years  ago,  to 
make  room  for  a  new  one  of  Bath  stone  adorned  with 
Limoges  enamels;  and  that  it  had  lain  ever  since  in  a 
corner  of  the  sexton's  shed.  He  proved,  with  learned 
men  to  support  him,  that  there  was.  only  one  other  font 
in  all  England  to  compare  with  it.  So  Woodhouse 
bought  it  and  presented  it  to  a  grateful  South  Kensing- 
ton which  said  it  would  see  the  earth  still  flatter  before 
it  returned  the  treasure  to  purblind  Huckley.  Bishops 
by  the  benchful  and  most  of  the  Royal  Academy,  not 
to  mention  *  Margaritas  ante  Porcos,'  wrote  fervently 
to  the  papers.  Punch  based  a  political  cartoon  on  it; 
the  Times  a  third  leader,  *The  Lust  of  Newness';  and 
the  Spectator  a  scholarly  and  delightful  middle,  *  Village 
Hausmania.'  The  vast  amused  outside  world  said 
in  all  its  tongues  and  types:  ^Of  course!  This  is  just 
what  Huckley  would  do!'  And  neither  Sir  Thomas 
nor  the  Rector  nor  the  sexton  nor  any  one  else  wrote  to 
deny  it. 

*You  see,'  said  Ollyett,  'this  is  much  more  of  a  blow 
to  Huckley  than  it  looks — because  every  word  of  it's 
true.  Your  Gubby  dance  was  inspiration,  I  admit, 
but  it  hadn't  its  roots  in ' 

*Two  hemispheres  and  four  continents  so  far,'  I 
pointed  out. 

'Its  roots  in  the  hearts  of  Huckley  was  what  I  was 
going  to  say.     Why  don't  you  ever  come  down  and 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  197 

00k  at  the  place  ?  You've  never  seen  it  since  we  were 
stopped  there.' 

'I've  only  my  week-ends  free,'  I  said,  *and  you  seem 
to  spend  yours  there  pretty  regularly — ^with  the  side- 
car.    I  was  afraid ' 

*0h,  that's  all  right,'  he  said  cheerily.  'We're  quite 
an  old  engaged  couple  now.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it 
happened  after  "the  gravid  polled  Angus"  business. 
Come  along  this  Saturday.  Woodhouse  says  he'll  run 
us  down  after  lunch.     He  wants  to  see  Huckley  too.* 

Pallant  could  not  accompany  us,  but  Bat  took  his 
place. 

*It's  odd,'  said  Bat,  'that  none  of  us  except  Ollyett 
has  ever  set  eyes  on  Huckley  since  that  time.  That's 
what  I  always  tell  My  people.  Local  colour  is  all 
right  after  you've  got  your  idea.  Before  that,  it's  a 
micre  nuisance.'  He  regaled  us  on  the  way  down  with 
panoramic  views  of  the  success — geographical  and 
financial — of  *The  Gubby'  and  The  Song. 

*By  the  way,'  said  he,  'I've  assigned  'Dal  all  the 
gramophone  rights  of  "The  Earth."  She's  a  born 
artist.  'Hadn't  sense  enough  to  hit  me  for  triple-dubs 
the  morning  after.     She'd  have  taken  it  out  in  coos.' 

'Bless  her!  And  what'U  she  make  out  of  the  gramo- 
phone rights?'  I  asked. 

'Lord  knows!'  he  replied.  'I've  made  fifty-four 
thousand  my  little  end  of  the  business,  and  it's  only 
just  beginning.     Hear  that  I* 

A  shell-pink  motor-brake  roared  up  behind  us  to  the 
music  on  a  key-bugle  of  'The  Village  that  Voted  the 


198         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Earth  was  Flat.'  In  a  few  minutes  we  overtook  an- 
other, in  natural  wood,  whose  occupants  were  singing 
it  through  their  noses. 

*I  don't  know  that  agency.  It  must  be  Cook's,'  said 
OUyett.  *They  do  suffer.'  We  were  never  out  of  ear- 
shot of  the  tune  the  rest  of  the  way  to  Huckley. 

Though  I  knew  it  would  be  so,  I  was  disappointed 
with  the  actual  aspect  of  the  spot  we  had — it  is  not  too 
much  to  say — created  in  the  face  of  the  nations.  The 
alcoholic  pub;  the  village  green;  the  Baptist  chapel;  the 
church;  the  sexton's  shed;  the  Rectory  whence  the  so- 
wonderful  letters  had  come;  Sir  Thomas's  park  gate- 
pillars  still  violently  declaring  *The  Earth  is  flat,'  were 
as  mean,  as  average,  as  ordinary  as  the  photograph  of  a 
room  where  a  murder  has  been  committed.  Ollyett, 
who,  of  course,  knew  the  place  specially  well,  made  the 
most  of  it  to  us.  Bat,  who  had  employed  it  as  a  back- 
cloth  to  one  of  his  own  dramas,  dismissed  it  as  a  thing 
used  and  emptied,  but  Woodhouse  expressed  my  feel- 
ings when  he  said:     *Is  that  all — after  all  we've  done?' 

*/  know,'  said  Ollyett  soothingly.  *"Like  that 
strange  song  I  heard  Apollo  sing:  When  Ilion  like  a 
mist  rose  into  towers."  I've  felt  the  same  sometimes, 
though  ft  has  been  Paradise  for  me.  But  they  do 
suffer.* 

The  fourth  brake  in  thirty  minutes  had  just  turned 
into  Sir  Thomas's  park  to  tell  the  Hall  that  *The  Earth 
was  flat';  a  knot  of  obviously  American  tourists  were 
kodaking  his  lodge-gates;  while  the  tea-shop  opposite  the 
lych-gate  was  full  of  people  buying  postcards  of  the 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  199 

old  font  as  it  had  lain  twenty  years  in  the  sexton's  shed. 
We  went  to  the  alcohoHc  pub  and  congratulated  the 
proprietor. 

'It's  bringin'  money  to  the  place/  said  he.  'But  in 
a  sense  you  can  buy  money  too  dear.  It  isn't  doin'  us 
any  good.  People  are  laughin'  at  us.  That's  what 
they're  doin'.  .  .  .  Now,  with  regard  to  that  Vote 
of  ours  you  may  have  heard  talk  about.     .     .     .' 

*For  Gorze  sake,  chuck  that  votin'  business,'  cried 
an  elderly  man  at  the  door.  *  Money-gettin'  or  no 
money-gettin',  we're  fed  up  with  it.' 

*Well,  I  do  think,'  said  the  publican,  shifting  his 
ground,  *I  do  think  Sir  Thomas  might  ha'  managed 
better  in  some  things.' 

*He  tole  me,' — the  elderly  man  shouldered  his  way 
to  the  bar — *he  tole  me  twenty  years  ago  to  take  an* 
lay  that  font  in  my  tool-shed.  He  tole  me  so  himself. 
An'  now,  after  twenty  years,  me  own  wife  makin'  me 
out  little  better  than  the  common  'angman!' 

'That's  the  sexton,'  the  publican  explained.  'His 
good  lady  sells  the  postcards — if  you  'aven't  got  some. 
But  we  feel  Sir  Thomas  might  ha'  done  better.' 

'What's  he  got  to  do  with  it?'  said  Woodhouse. 

'There's  nothin'*  we  can  trace  'ome  to  'im  in  so 
many  words,  but  we  think  he  might  'ave  saved  us  the 
font  business.  Now,  in  regard  to  that  votin'  busi- 
ness-^  ' 

'Chuck  it!  Oh,  chuck  itl'  the  sexton  roared,  'or 
you'll  'ave  me  cuttin'  my  throat  at  cock-crow.  'Ere's 
another  parcel  of  fun-makers!' 


200         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

A  motor-brake  had  pulled  up  at  the  door  and  a  multi- 
tude of  men  and  women  immediately  descended.  We 
went  out  to  look.  They  bore  rolled  banners,  a  reading- 
desk  in  three  pieces,  and,  I  specially  noticed,  a  collapsi- 
ble harmonium,  such  as  is  used  on  ships  at  sea. 

'Salvation  Army?'  I  said,  though  I  saw  no  uniforms. 

Two  of  them  unfurled  a  banner  between  poles  which 
bore  the  legend:  *The  Earth  is  flat/  Woodhouse  and 
I  turned  to  Bat.  He  shook  his  head.  *No,  no!  Not 
me.  ...  If  I  had  only  seen  their  costumes  in 
advance!' 

*  Good  Lord!'  said  Ollyett.  'It's  the  genuine  Soci- 
ety!' 

The  company  advanced  on  the  green  with  the  pre- 
cision of  people  well  broke  to  these  movements.  Scene- 
shifters  could  not  have  been  quicker  with  the  three- 
piece  rostrum,  nor  stewards  with  the  harmonium. 
Almost  before  its  cross-legs  had  been  kicked  into  their 
catches,  certainly  before  the  tourists  by  the  lodge-gates 
had  begun  to  move  over,  a  woman  sat  down  to  it  and 
struck  up  a  hymn: 


Hear  ther  truth  our  tongues  are  telling, 
Spread  ther  light  from  shore  to  shore, 

God  hath  given  man  a  dwelling 
Flat  and  flat  for  evermore. 


When  ther  Primal  Dark  retreated, 
When  ther  deeps  were  undesigned. 

He  with  rule  and  level  meted 
Habitation  for  mankind! 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  201 

I  saw  sick  envy  on  Bat's  face.  *  Curse  Nature/  he 
luttered.  *She  gets  ahead  of  you  every  time.  To 
hink  /  forgot  hymns  and  a  harmonium!' 

Then  came  the  chorus : 

Hear  ther  truth  our  tongues  are  telling, 
Spread  ther  light  from  shore  to  shore — 

Oh,  be  faithful!    Oh,  be  truthful! 
Earth  is  flat  for  evermore. 

They  sang  several  verses  with  the  fervour  of  Chris- 
lans  awaiting  their  lions.  Then  there  were  growlings 
the  air.  The  sexton,  embraced  by  the  landlord, 
wo-stepped  out  of  the  pub-door.  Each  was  trying  to 
putroar  the  other.  'Apologising  in  advarnce  for  what 
ne  says,'  the  landlord  shouted:  *  You'd  better  go  away' 
(here  the  sexton  began  to  speak  words).  'This  isn't 
the  time  nor  yet  the  place  for — for  any  more  o' this  chat.' 

The  crowd  thickened.  I  saw  the  village  police- 
sergeant  come  out  of  his  cottage  buckhng  his  belt. 

*But  surely,'  said  the  woman  at  the  harmonium, 
'there  must  be  some  mistake.     We  are  not  suffragettes.' 

'Damn  it!  They'd  be  a  change,'  cried  the  sexton. 
'You  get  out  of  this!  Don't  talk!  /  can't  stand  it  for 
one !     Get  right  out,  or  we'll  font  you ! ' 

The  crowd  which  was  being  recruited  from  every 
house  in  sight  echoed  the  invitation.  The  sergeant 
pushed  forward.  A  man  beside  the  reading-desk  said: 
*  But  surely  we  are  among  dear  friends  and  sympathisers. 
Listen  to  me  for  a  moment.' 

It  was  the  moment  that  a  passing  char-a-banc  chose 


202         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

to  strike  into  The  Song.  The  effect  was  instantaneous. 
Bat,  Ollyett,  and  I,  who  by  divers  roads  have  learned 
the  psychology  of  crowds,  retreated  towards  the  tavern 
door.  Woodhouse,  the  newspaper  proprietor,  anxious, 
I  presume,  to  keep  touch  with  the  public,  dived  into 
the  thick  of  it.  Every  one  else  told  the  Society  to  go 
away  at  once.  When  the  lady  at  the  harmonium  (I 
began  to  understand  why  it  is  sometimes  necessary  to 
kill  women)  pointed  at  the  stencilled  park  pillars  and 
called  them  'the  cromlechs  of  our  common  faith,'  there 
was  a  snarl  and  a  rush.  The  police-sergeant  checked 
it,  but  advised  the  Society  to  keep  on  going.  The 
Society  withdrew  into  the  brake  fighting,  as  it  were,  a 
rearguard  action  of  oratory  up  each  step.  The  col- 
lapsed harmonium  was  hauled  in  last,  and  with  the 
perfect  unreason  of  crowds,  they  cheered  it  loudly,  till 
the  chauffeur  sHpped  in  his  clutch  and  sped  away. 
Then  the  crowd  broke  up,  congratulating  all  concerned 
except  the  sexton,  who  was  held  to  have  disgraced  his 
office  by  having  sworn  at  ladies.  We  strolled  across 
the  green  towards  Woodhouse,  who  was  talking  to  the 
police-sergeant  near  the  park-gates.  We  were  not 
twenty  yards  from  him  when  we  saw  Sir  Thomas  Ingell 
emerge  from  the  lodge  and  rush  furiously  at  Wood- 
house  with  an  uplifted  stick,  at  the  same  time  shrieking: 

Til  teach  you  to  laugh,  you '  but  Ollyett  has  the 

record  of  the  language.     By  the  time  we  reached  them. 
Sir  Thomas  was  on  the  ground;  Woodhouse,  very  white, 
held  the  walking-stick  and  was  saying  to  the  sergeant: 
*I  give  this  person  in  charge  for  assault.' 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  203 

*But,  good  Lord!'  said  the  sergeant,  whiter  than 
Woodhouse.     *  It's  Sir  Thomas/ 

*  Whoever  it  is,  it  isn't  fit  to  be  at  large,'  said  Wood- 
house.  The  crowd  suspecting  something  wrong  began 
to  reassemble,  and  all  the  English  horror  of  a  row  in 
public  moved  us,  headed  by  the  sergeant,  inside  the 
lodge.     We  shut  both  park-gates  and  lodge-door. 

*  You  saw  the  assault,  sergeant,'  Woodhouse  went  on. 
*  You  can  testify  I  used  no  more  force  than  was  necessary 
to  protect  myself.  You  can  testify  that  I  have  not 
even  damaged  this  person's  property.  (Here!  take 
your  stick,  you!)  You  heard  the  filthy  language  he 
used.' 

*I — I  can't  say  I  did,'  the  sergeant  stammered. 

*0h,  but  we  did!'  said  Ollyett,  and  repeated  it,  to 
the  apron-veiled  horror  of  the  lodge-keeper's  wife. 

Sir  Thomas  on  a  hard  kitchen  chair  began  to  talk. 
He  said  he  had  'stood  enough  of  being  photographed 
like  a  wild  beast,'  and  expressed  loud  regret  that  he  had 
not  killed  'that  man,'  who  was  'conspiring  with  the 
sergeant  to  laugh  at  him.' 

"Ad  you  ever  seen  'im  before,  Sir  Thomas?'  the 
sergeant  asked. 

*No!  But  it's  time  an  example  was  made  here.  I've 
never  seen  the  sweep  in  my  life.' 

I  think  it  was  Bat  Masquerier's  magnetic  eye  that 
recalled  the  past  to  him,  for  his  face  changed  and  his 
j  aw  dropped.  *  But  I  have ! '  he  groaned.  *  I  remember 
now.' 

Here  a  writhing  man  entered  by  the  back  door.    He 


204         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

was,  he  said,  the  village  soHcitor.  I  do  not  assert 
that  he  licked  Woodhouse's  boots,  but  we  should  have 
respected  him  more  if  he  had  and  been  done  with  it. 
His  notion  was  that  the  matter  could  be  accommodated, 
arranged  and  compromised  for  gold,  and  yet  more  gold. 
The  sergeant  thought  so  too.  Woodhouse  undeceived 
them  both.  To  the  sergeant  he  said,  *Will  you  or  will 
you  not  enter  the  charge?'  To  the  village  solicitor 
he  gave  the  name  of  his  lawyers,  at  which  the  man 
wrung  his  hands  and  cried,  'Oh,  Sir  T.,  Sir  T.!'  in  a 
miserable  falsetto,  for  it  was  a  Bat  Masquerier  of  a  firm. 
They  conferred  together  in  tragic  whispers. 

*I  don't  dive  after  Dickens,'  said  Ollyett  to  Bat  and 
me  by  the  window,  'but  every  time  /  get  into  a  row 
I  notice  the  police-court  always  fills  up  with  his  charac- 
ters.' 

'I've  noticed  that  too,'  said  Bat.  ' But  the  odd  thing 
is  you  mustn't  give  the  public  straight  Dickens — not 
in  My  business.     I  wonder  why  that  is.' 

Then  Sir  Thomas  got  his  second  wind  and  cursed 
the  day  that  he,  or  it  may  have  been  we,  were  born. 
I  feared  that  though  he  was  a  Radical  he  might  apolo- 
gise and,  since  he  was  an  M.P.,  might  He  his  way  out 
of  the  difficulty.  But  he  was  utterly  and  truthfully 
beside  himself.  He  asked  foolish  questions — such  as 
what  we  were  doing  in  the  village  at  all,  and  how  much 
blackmail  Woodhouse  expected  to  make  out  of  him. 
But  neither  Woodhouse  nor  the  sergeant  nor  the  writh- 
ing solicitor  listened.  The  upshot  of  their  talk,  in 
the  chimney-corner,  was  that  Sir  Thomas  stood  engaged 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  205 

to  appear  next  Monday  before  his  brother  magistrates 
on  charges  of  assault,  disorderly  conduct,  and  language 
calculated,  etc.  Ollyett  was  specially  careful  about  the 
language. 

Then  we  left.  The  village  looked  very  pretty  in 
the  late  light — pretty  and  tuneful  as  a  nest  of  nightin- 
gales. 

'You'll  turn  up  on  Monday,  I  hope,'  said  Woodhouse, 
when  we  reached  town.  That  was  his  only  allusion  to 
the  affair. 

So  we  turned  up — through  a  world  still  singing  that 
the  Earth  was  flat — at  the  Httle  clay-coloured  market- 
town  with  the  large  Corn  Exchange  and  the  small 
Jubilee  memorial.  We  had  some  dilhculty  in  getting 
seats  in  the  court.  Woodhouse's  imported  London 
lawyer  was  a  man  of  commanding  personality,  with  a 
voice  trained  to  convey  blasting  imputations  by  tone. 
When  the  case  was  called,  he  rose  and  stated  his  client's 
intention  not  to  proceed  with  the  charge.  His  client, 
he  went  on  to  say,  had  not  entertained,  and,  of  course, 
in  the  circumstances  could  not  have  entertained,  any 
suggestion  of  accepting  on  behalf  of  pubUc  charities  any 
moneys  that  might  have  been  offered  to  him  on  the 
part  of  Sir  Thomas's  estate.  At  the  same  time,  no 
one  acknowledged  more  sincerely  than  his  client  the 
spirit  in  which  those  offers  had  been  made  by  those 
entitled  to  make  them.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact — 
here  he  became  the  man  of  the  world  colloguing  with 
his  equals — certain — er — details  had  come  to  his  client's 
knowledge  since  the  lamentable  outburst,  which     .     .    . 


2o6         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  Nothing  was  served  by 
going  into  them,  but  he  ventured  to  say  that,  had  those 
painful  circumstances  only  been  known  earlier,  his  client 

would — again  *  of  course  * — never  have  dreamed A 

gesture  concluded  the  sentence,  and  the  ensnared 
Bench  looked  at  Sir  Thomas  with  new  and  with- 
drawing eyes.  Frankly,  as  they  could  see,  it  would 
be  nothing  less  than  cruelty  to  proceed  further  with  this 
— er — unfortunate  affair.  He  asked  leave,  therefore, 
to  withdraw  the  charge  in  totOy  and  at  the  same  time  to 
express  his  client's  deepest  sympathy  with  all  who  had 
been  in  any  way  distressed,  as  his  client  had  been,  by 
the  fact  and  the  publicity  of  proceedings  which  he 
could,  of  course,  again  assure  them  that  his  client  would 
never  have  dreamed  of  instituting  if,  as  he  hoped  he  had 
made  plain,  certain  facts  had  been  before  his  client  at 
the  time  when  .  .  .  But  he  had  said  enough. 
For  his  fee  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  had. 

Heaven  inspired  Sir  Thomas's  lawyer — all  of  a  sweat 
lest  his  client's  language  should  come  out — to  rise  up 
and  thank  him.  Then,  Sir  Thomas — not  yet  aware 
what  leprosy  had  been  laid  upon  him,  but  grateful  to 
escape  on  any  terms — followed  suit.  He  was  heard  in 
interested  silence,  and  people  drew  back  a  pace  as 
Gehazi  passed  forth. 

*You  hit  hard,'  said  Bat  to  Woodhouse  afterwards. 
*His  own  people  think  he's  mad.' 

'You  don't  say  so?  I'll  show  you  some  of  his  letters 
to-night  at  dinner,'  he  replied. 

He  brought  them  to  the  Red  Amber  Room  of  the 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  207 

Chop  Suey.  We  forgot  to  be  amazed,  as  till  then  we 
had  been  amazed,  over  the  Song  or  *The  Gubby,'  or 
the  full  tide  of  Fate  that  seemed  to  run  only  for  our 
sakes.  It  did  not  even  interest  Ollyett  that  the  verb 
*to  buckle'  had  passed  into  the  English  leader-writers' 
language.  We  were  studying  the  interior  of  a  soul, 
flash-lighted  to  its  grimiest  corners  by  the  dread  of 
'losing  its  position.' 

*And  then  it  thanked  you,  didn't  it,  for  dropping  the 
case?'  said  Pallant. 

*  Yes,  and  it  sent  me  a  telegram  to  confirm.'  Wood- 
house  turned  to  Bat.  'Now  d'you  think  I  hit  too 
hard?'  he  asked. 

*No — o!'  said  Bat.  'After  all — I'm  talking  of  every 
one's  business  now — one  can't  ever  do  anything  in 
Art  that  comes  up  to  Nature  in  any  game  in  life.  Just 
think  how  this  thing  has ' 

'Just  let  me  run  through  that  little  case  of  yours 
again,'  said  Pallant,  and  picked  up  The  Bun  which  had 
it  set  out  in  full. 

'Any  chance  of  'Dal  looking  in  on  us  to-night?'  Oll- 
yett began. 

'She's  occupied  with  her  Art  too,'  Bat  answered 
bitterly.  'What's  the  use  of  Art  ?  Tell  me,  some  one ! ' 
A  barrel-organ  outside  promptly  pointed  out  that  the 
Earth  was  flat.  'The  gramophone's  killing  street 
organs,  but  I  let  loose  a  hundred-and-seventy-four  of 
those  hurdygurdys  twelve  hours  after  The  Song,'  said 
Bat.  'Not  counting  the  Provinces.'  His  face  bright- 
ened a  little. 


2o8         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Look  hereT  said  Pallant  over  the  paper.  *I  don't 
suppose  you  or  those  asinine  J.P/s  knew  it — but  your 
lawyer  ought  to  have  known  that  youVe  all  put  your 
foot  in  it  most  confoundedly  over  this  assault  case/ 

*  What's  the  matter?'  said  Woodhouse. 

'It's  ludicrous.  It's  insane.  There  isn't  two  penn- 
'orth of  legality  in  the  whole  thing.  Of  course,  you 
could  have  withdrawn  the  charge,  but  the  way  you 
went  about  it  is  childish — besides  being  illegal.  What 
on  earth  was  the  Chief  Constable  thinking  of?' 

*0h,  he  was  a  friend  of  Sir  Thomas's.  They  all 
were  for  that  matter,'  I  replied. 

*He  ought  to  be  hanged.  So  ought  the  Chairman 
of  the  Bench.     I'm  talking  as  a  lawyer  now.' 

*Why,  what  have  we  been  guilty  of?  Misprision  of 
treason  or  compounding  a  felony — or  what?'  said  011- 
yett. 

*ril  tell  you  later.'  Pallant  went  back  to  the  paper 
with  knitted  brows,  smiling  unpleasantly  from  time 
to  time.     At  last  he  laughed. 

'Thank  you!'  he  said  to  Woodhouse.  'It  ought  to 
be  pretty  useful — for  us.' 

'What  d'you  mean?'  said  Ollyett. 

'For  our  side.  They  are  all  Rads  who  are  mixed 
up  in  this — from  the  Chief  Constable  down.  There 
must  be  a  Question.     There  must  be  a  Question.' 

'Yes,  but  I  wanted  the  charge  withdrawn  in  my  own 
way,'  Woodhouse  insisted. 

'That's  nothing  to  do  with  the  case.  It's  the  legality 
of  your  silly  methods.     You  wouldn't  understand  if  I 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  209 

talked  till  morning/  He  began  to  pace  the  room,  his 
hands  behind  him.  *I  wonder  if  I  can  get  it  through 
our  Whip's  thickhead  that  it's  a  chance.  .  .  .  That 
comes  of  stuffing  the  Bench  with  radical  tinkers,'  he 
muttered. 

*0h,  sit  down!*  said  Woodhouse. 

'Where's  your  lawyer  to  be  found  now?'  he  jerked 
out. 

*At  the  Trefoil,'  said  Bat  promptly.  *I  gave  him 
the  stage-box  for  to-night.     He's  an  artist  too.' 

*Then  I'm  going  to  see  him,'  said  Pallant.  'Properly 
handled  this  ought  to  be  a  godsend  for  our  side.'  He 
withdrew  without  apology. 

'Certainly,  this  thing  keeps  on  opening  up,  and  up,' 
I  remarked  inanely. 

*It's  beyond  me!'  said  Bat.  'I  don't  think  if  I'd 
known  I'd  have  ever  .  .  .  Yes,  I  would,  though. 
He  said  my  home  address  was ' 

*It  was  his  tone — his  tone!'  Ollyett  almost  shouted. 
Woodhouse  said  nothing,  but  his  face  whitened  as  he 
brooded. 

*Well,  any  way,'  Bat  went  on,  'I'm  glad  I  always 
believed  in  God  and  Providence  and  all  those  things. 
Else  I  should  lose  my  nerve.  We've  put  it  over  the 
whole  world — the  full  extent  of  the  geographical  globe. 
We  couldn't  stop  it  if  we  wanted  to  now.  It's  got  to 
burn  itself  out.  I'm  not  in  charge  any  more.  What 
d'you  expect  '11  happen  next.     Angels?' 

I  expected  nothing.  Nothing  that  I  expected  ap- 
proached what  I  got.     Politics  are  not  my  concern,  but. 


2IO         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

for  the  moment,  since  it  seemed  that  they  were  going 
to  *huckle'  with  the  rest,  I  took  an  interest  in  them. 
They  impressed  me  as  a  dog's  life  without  a  dog's  de- 
cencies, and  I  was  confirmed  in  this  when  an  unshaven 
and  unwashen  Pallant  called  on  me  at  ten  o'clock  one 
morning,  begging  for  a  bath  and  a  couch. 

'Bail  too?'  I  asked.  He  was  in  evening  dress  and  his 
eyes  were  sunk  feet  in  his  head. 

*No,'  he  said  hoarsely.  *A11  night  sitting.  Fifteen 
divisions.     'Nother  to-night.     Your  place  was  nearer 

than    mine,    so '     He    began   to   undress   in   the 

hall. 

When  he  awoke  at  one  o'clock  he  gave  me  lurid 
accounts  of  what  he  said  was  history,  but  which  was 
obviously  collective  hysteria.  There  had  been  a  poli- 
tical crisis.  He  and  his  fellow  M.P.'s  had  *done  things' 
— I  never  quite  got  at  the  things — for  eighteen  hours 
on  end,  and  the  pitiless  Whips  were  even  then  at  the 
telephones  to  herd  'em  up  to  another  dog-fight.  So  he 
snorted  and  grew  hot  all  over  again  while  he  might 
have  been  resting. 

'I'm  going  to  pitch  in  my  question  about  that  mis- 
carriage of  justice  at  Huckley  this  afternoon,  if  you 
care  to  Hsten  to  it,'  he  said.  *  It  '11  be  absolutely  thrown 
away — in  our  present  state.  I  told  'em  so;  but  it's 
my  only  chance  for  weeks.  P'raps  Woodhouse  would 
like  to  come.' 

'I'm  sure  he  would.  Anything  to  do  with  Huckley 
interests  us,'  I  said. 

*It  '11  miss  fire,  I'm  afraid.     Both  sides  are  absolutely 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  211 

cooked.  The  present  situation  has  been  working  up 
for  some  time.  You  see  the  row  was  bound  to  come, 
etc.  etc./  and  he  flew  off  the  handle  once  more. 

I  telephoned  to  Woodhouse,  and  we  went  to  the 
House  together.  It  was  a  dull,  sticky  afternoon  with 
thunder  in  the  air.  For  some  reason  or  other,  each 
side  was  determined  to  prove  its  virtue  and  endurance 
to  the  utmost.  I  heard  men  snarHng  about  it  all  round 
me.  'If  they  won't  spare  us,  we'll  show  'em  no  mercy.' 
*  Break  the  brutes  up  from  the  start.  They  can't  stand 
late  hours.'  'Come  on!  No  shirking!  I  know  yow've 
had  a  Turkish  bath,'  were  some  of  the  sentences  I 
caught  on  our  way.  The  House  was  packed  already, 
and  one  could  feel  the  negative  electricity  of  a  jaded 
crowd  wrenching  at  one's  own  nerves,  and  depressing 
the  afternoon  soul. 

'This  is  bad!'  Woodhouse  whispered.  'There'll  be  a 
row  before  they've  finished.  Look  at  the  Front 
Benches!'  And  he  pointed  out  little  personal  signs  by 
which  I  was  to  know  that  each  man  was  on  edge.  He 
might  have  spared  himself.  The  House  was  ready  to 
snap  before  a  bone  had  been  thrown.  A  sullen  minister 
rose  to  reply  to  a  staccato  question.  His  supporters 
cheered  defiantly.  'None  o'  that!  None  o'  that!' 
came  from  the  Back  Benches.  I  saw  the  Speaker's  face 
stiffen  like  the  face  of  a  helmsman  as  he  humours  a 
hard-mouthed  yacht  after  a  sudden  following  sea.  The 
trouble  was  barely  met  in  time.  There  came  a  fresh, 
apparently  causeless  gust  a  few  minutes  later — savage, 
threatening,  but  futile.     It  died  out — one  could  hear 


212         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

the  sigh — in  sudden  wrathful  realisation  of  the  dreary 
hours  ahead,  and  the  ship  of  state  drifted  on. 

Then  Pallant — and  the  raw  House  winced  at  the 
torture  of  his  voice — rose.  It  was  a  twenty-line  ques- 
tion, studded  with  legal  technicalities.  The  gist  of  it 
was  that  he  wished  to  know  whether  the  appropriate 
Minister  was  aware  that  there  had  been  a  grave  mis- 
carriage of  justice  on  such  and  such  a  date,  at  such  and 
such  a  place,  before  such  and  such  justices  of  the  peace, 
in  regard  to  a  case  which  arose 

I  heard  one  desperate,  weary  Mamn!'  float  up  from 
the  pit  of  that  torment.  Pallant  sawed  on — *out  of 
certain  events  which  occurred  at  the  village  of  Huckley.' 

The  House  came  to  attention  with  a  parting  of  the 
lips  like  a  hiccough,  and  it  flashed  through  my  mind. 
.     .     .     Pallant  repeated,  *Huckley.     The  village ' 

'That  voted  the  Earth  was  flat.'  A  single  voice  from 
a  back  Bench  sang  it  once  like  a  lone  frog  in  a  far  pool. 

'Earth  was  flat,'  croaked  another  voice  opposite. 

'Earth  was  flat.'  There  were  several.  Then  several 
more. 

It  was,  you  understand,  the  collective,  overstrained 
nerve  of  the  House,  snapping,  strand  by  strand  to 
various  notes,  as  the  hawser  parts  from  its  moorings. 

*The  Village  that  voted  the  Earth  was  flat.'  The 
tune  was  beginning  to  shape  itself.  More  voices  were 
raised  and  feet  began  to  beat  time.  Even  so  it  did  not 
occur  to  me  that  the  thing  would 

'The  Village  that  voted  the  Earth  was  flat!'  It  was 
easier  now  to  see  who  were  not  singing.     There  were 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  213 

still  a  few.  Of  a  sudden  (and  this  proves  the  funda- 
mental instabihty  of  the  cross-bench  mind)  a  cross- 
bencher  leaped  on  his  seat  and  there  played  an  imagi- 
nary double-bass  with  tremendous  maestro-like  wag- 
glings  of  the  elbow. 

The  last  strand  parted.  The  ship  of  state  drifted 
out  helpless  on  the  rocking  tide  of  melody. 

*The  Village  that  voted  the  Earth  was  flat! 
The  Village  that  voted  the  Earth  was  flat!' 

The  Irish  first  conceived  the  idea  of  using  their 
order-papers  as  funnels  wherewith  to  reach  the  correct 
*vroom — vroom'  on  *  Earth.'*  Labour,  always  conserva- 
tive and  respectable  at  a  crisis,  stood  out  longer  than 
any  other  section,  but  when  it  came  in  it  was  howling 
syndicalism.  Then,  without  distinction  of  Party,  fear 
of  constituents,  desire  for  office,  or  hope  of  emolument, 
the  House  sang  at  the  tops  and  at  the  bottoms  of  their 
voices,  swaying  their  stale  bodies  and  epileptically  beat- 
ing with  their  swelled  feet.  They  sang  'The  Village 
that  voted  the  Earth  was  flat':  first,  because  they 
wanted  to,  and  secondly — ^which  is  the  terror  of  that 
song — because  they  could  not  stop.  For  no  considera- 
tion could  they  stop. 

Pallant  was  still  standing  up.  Some  one  pointed 
at  him  and  they  laughed.  Others  began  to  point, 
lunging,  as  it  were,  in  time  with  the  tune.  At  this 
moment  two  persons  came  in  practically  abreast  from 
behind  the  Speaker's  chair,  and  halted  appalled.  One 
happened  to  be  the  Prime  Minister  and  the  other  a 


214         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

messenger.  The  House,  with  tears  running  down  their 
cheeks,  transferred  their  attention  to  the  paralysed 
couple.  They  pointed  six  hundred  forefingers  at  them. 
They  rocked,  they  waved,  and  they  rolled  while  they 
pointed,  but  still  they  sang.  When  they  weakened  for 
an  instant,  Ireland  would  yell:  *Are  ye  with  me, 
bhoys.?'  and  they  all  renewed  their  strength  like  An- 
taeus. No  man  could  say  afterwards  what  happened 
in  the  Press  or  the  Strangers'  Gallery.  It  was  the 
House,  the  hysterical  and  abandoned  House  of  Com- 
mons that  held  all  eyes,  as  it  deafened  all  ears.  I  saw 
both  Front  Benches  bend  forward,  some  with  their 
foreheads  on  their  despatch-boxes,  the  rest  with  their 
faces  in  their  hands;  and  their  moving  shoulders  jolted 
the  House  out  of  its  last  rag  of  decency.  Only  the 
Speaker  remained  unmoved.  The  entire  press  of 
Great  Britain  bore  witness  next  day  that  he  had  not 
even  bowed  his  head.  The  Angel  of  the  Constitution, 
for  vain  was  the  help  of  man,  foretold  him  the  exact 
moment  at  which  the  House  would  have  broken  into 
*The  Gubby.'  He  is  reported  to  have  said:  *I  heard 
the  Irish  beginning  to  shuffle  it.  So  I  adjourned.' 
Pallant's  version  is  that  he  added:  'And  I  was  never 
so  grateful  to  a  private  member  in  all  my  life  as  I  was  to 
Mr.  Pallant.' 

He  made  no  explanation.  He  did  not  refer  to  orders 
or  disorders.  He  simply  adjourned  the  House  till  six 
that  evening.  And  the  House  adjourned — some  of  it 
nearly  on  all  fours. 

I  was  not  correct  when  I  said  that  the  Speaker  was 


THE  VILLAGE  THAT  VOTED  215 

the  only  man  who  did  not  laugh.  Woodhouse  was  be- 
side me  all  the  time.  His  face  was  set  and  quite  white — 
as  white,  they  told  me,  as  Sir  Thomas  Ingell's  when  he 
went,  by  request,  to  a  private  interview  with  his  Chief 
Whip. 


THE  PRESS 

The  Soldier  may  forget  his  sword 

The  Sailorman  the  sea, 
The  Mason  may  forget  the  Word 

And  the  Priest  his  litany: 
The  maid  may  forget  both  jewel  and  gem. 

And  the  bride  her  wedding-dress — 
But  the  Jew  shall  forget  Jerusalem 

Ere  we  forget  the  Press ! 

Who  once  hath  stood  through  the  loaded  hour 

Ere,  roaring  like  the  gale, 
The  Harrild  and  the  Hoe  devour 

Their  league-long  paper  bale. 
And  has  lit  his  pipe  in  the  morning  calm 

That  follows  the  midnight  stress — 
He  hath  sold  his  heart  to  the  old  Black  Art 

We  call  the  daily  Press. 

Who  once  hath  dealt  in  the  widest  game 

That  all  of  a  man  can  play, 
No  later  love,  no  larger  fame 

Will  lure  him  long  away. 
As  the  war-horse  smelleth  the  battle  afar. 

The  entered  Soul,  no  less, 
He  saith:     *Ha!     Hal'  where  the  trumpets  are 

And  the  thunders  of  the  Press. 
216 


THE  PRESS  217 

Canst  thou  number  the  days  that  we  fulfil, 

Or  the  Times  that  we  bring  forth  ? 
Canst  thou  send  the  lightnings  to  do  thy  will, 

And  cause  them  reign  on  earth  ? 
Hast  thou  given  a  peacock  goodly  wings 

To  please  his  foolishness? 
Sit  down  at  the  heart  of  men  and  things. 

Companion  of  the  Press ! 

The  Pope  may  launch  his  Interdict, 

The  Union  its  decree. 
But  the  bubble  is  blown  and  the  bubble  is  pricked 

By  Us  and  such  as  We. 
Remember  the  battle  and  stand  aside 

While  Thrones  and  Powers  confess 
That  King  over  all  the  children  of  pride 

Is  the  Press — the  Press — the  Press ! 


In  The  Presence 

(1912) 

*So  the  matter,'  the  Regimental  Chaplain  concluded, 
*was  correct;  in  every  way  correct.  I  am  well  pleased 
with  Rutton  Singh  and  Attar  Singh.  They  have 
gathered  the  fruit  of  their  lives.' 

He  folded  his  arms  and  sat  down  on  the  verandah. 
The  hot  day  had  ended,  and  there  was  a  pleasant  smell 
of  cooking  along  the  regimental  lines,  where  half-clad 
men  went  back  and  forth  with  leaf  platters  and  water- 
goglets.  The  Subadar-Major,  in  extreme  undress, 
sat  on  a  chair,  as  befitted  his  rank;  the  Havildar-Major, 
his  nephew,  leaning  respectfully  against  the  wall.  The 
Regiment  was  at  home  and  at  ease  in  its  own  quarters 
in  its  own  district  which  takes  its  name  from  the  great 
Muhammadan  saint  Mian  Mir,  revered  by  Jehangir 
and  beloved  by  Guru  Har  Gobind,  sixth  of  the  great 
Sikh  Gurus. 

'Quite  correct,'  the  Regimental  Chaplain  repeated. 

No  Sikh  contradicts  his  Regimental  Chaplain  who 
expounds  to  him  the  Holy  Book  of  the  Grunth  Sahib 
and  who  knows  the  lives  and  legends  of  all  the  Gurus. 

The  Subadar-Major  bowed  his  grey  head.  The 
Havildar-Major  coughed  respectfully  to  attract  atten- 
tion and  to  ask  leave  to  speak.     Though  he  was  the 

219 


220        A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Subadar-Major's  nephew,  and  though  his  father  held 
twice  as  much  land  as  his  uncle,  he  knew  his  place  in 
the  scheme  of  things.  The  Subadar-Major  shifted 
one  hand  with  an  iron  bracelet  on  the  wrist. 

*Was  there  by  any  chance  any  woman  at  the  back 
of  it?'  the  Havildar-Major  murmured.  *I  was  not 
here  when  the  thing  happened/ 

*Yesl  Yes!  Yes!  We  all  know  that  thou  wast 
in  England  eating  and  drinking  with  the  Sahibs.  We 
are  all  surprised  that  thou  canst  still  speak  Punjabi.' 
The  Subadar-Major's  carefully-tended  beard  bristled. 

'There  was  no  woman,'  the  Regimental  Chaplain 
growled.  *It  was  land.  Hear,  you!  Rutton  Singh 
and  Attar  Singh  were  the  elder  of  four  brothers.  These 
four  held  land  in — ^what  was  the  village's  name? — oh, 
Pishapur,  near  Thori,  in  the  Banalu  Tehsil  of  Patiala 
State,  where  men  can  still  recognise  right  behaviour 
when  they  see  it.  The  two  younger  brothers  tilled  the 
land,  while  Rutton  Singh  and  Attar  Singh  took  service 
with  the  Regiment,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
family.' 

*True,  true,'  said  the  Havildar-Major.  *  There  is 
the  same  arrangement  in  all  good  families.' 

*Then,  Hsten  again,'  the  Regimental  Chaplain  went 
on.  'Their  kin  on  their  mother's  side  put  great  op- 
pression and  injustice  upon  the  two  younger  brothers 
who  stayed  with  the  land  in  Patiala  State.  Their 
mother's  kin  loosened  beasts  into  the  four  brothers' 
crops  when  the  crops  were  green;  they  cut  the  corn  by 
force  when  it  was  ripe;  they  broke  down  the  water- 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  221 

courses;  they  defiled  the  wells;  and  they  brought  false 
charges  in  the  law-courts  against  all  four  brothers. 
They  did  not  spare  even  the  cotton-seed,  as  the  saying  is. 

*  Their  mother's  kin  trusted  that  the  young  men 
would  thus  be  forced  by  weight  of  trouble,  and  further 
trbuble  and  perpetual  trouble,  to  quit  their  lands  in 
Pishapur  village  in  Banalu  Tehsil  in  Patiala  State.  If 
the  young  men  ran  away,  the  land  would  come  whole 
to  their  mother's  kin.  I  am  not  a  regimental  school- 
master, but  is  it  understood,  child?' 

'Understood,'  said  the  Havildar-Major  grimly. 
'Pishapur  is  not  the  only  place  where  the  fence  eats  the 
field  instead  of  protecting  it.  But  perhaps  there  was  a 
woman  among  their  mother's  kin  ? ' 

*God  knows!'  said  the  Regimental  Chaplain. 
*  Woman,  or  man,  or  law-courts,  the  young  men  would 
not  be  driven  off  the  land  which  was  their  own  by  inheri- 
tance. They  made  appeal  to  Rutton  Singh  and  Attar 
Singh,  their  brethren  who  had  taken  service  with  us  in 
the  Regiment,  and  so  knew  the  world,  to  help  them  in 
their  long  war  against  their  mother's  kin  in  Pishapur. 
For  that  reason,  because  their  own  land  and  the  honour 
of  their  house  was  dear  to  them,  Rutton  Singh  and 
Attar  Singh  needs  must  very  often  ask  for  leave  to  go 
to  Patiala  and  attend  to  the  lawsuits  and  cattle- 
poundings  there. 

*It  was  not,  look  you,  as  though  they  went  back  to 
their  own  village  and  sat,  garlanded  with  jasmine,  in 
honour,  upon  chairs  before  the  elders  under  the  trees. 
They  went  back  always  to  perpetual  trouble,  either  of 


222         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

lawsuits,  or  theft,  or  strayed  cattle;  and  they  sat  on 
thorns/ 

*I  knew  it,'  said  the  Subadar-Major.  *Life  was 
bitter  for  them  both.  But  they  were  well-conducted 
men.  It  was  not  hard  to  get  them  their  leave  from  the 
Colonel  Sahib.' 

'They  spoke  to  me  also,'  said  the  Chaplain.  ^^^ Let 
him  who  desires  the  four  great  gifts  apply  himself  to  the 
words  of  holy  men.*'  That  is  written.  Often  they 
showed  me  the  papers  of  the  false  lawsuits  brought 
against  them.  Often  they  wept  on  account  of  the 
persecution  put  upon  them  by  their  mother's  kin. 
Men  thought  it  was  drugs  when  their  eyes  showed  red.' 

*They  wept  in  my  presence  too,'  said  the  Subadar- 
Major.  'Well-conducted  men  of  nine  years'  service 
apiece.     Rutton  Singh  was  drill-Naik,  too.' 

'They  did  all  things  correctly  as  Sikhs  should,'  said 
the  Regimental  Chaplain.  'When  the  persecution  had 
endured  seven  years.  Attar  Singh  took  leave  to  Pishapur 
once  again  (that  was  the  fourth  time  in  that  year  only) 
and  he  called  his  persecutors  together  before  the  village 
elders,  and  he  cast  his  turban  at  their  feet  and  besought 
them  by  his  mother's  blood  to  cease  from  their  persecu- 
tions. For  he  told  them  earnestly  that  he  had  marched 
to  the  boundaries  of  his  patience,  and  that  there  could 
be  but  one  end  to  the  matter. 

'They  gave  him  abuse.  They  mocked  him  and  his 
tears,  which  was  the  same  as  though  they  had  mocked 
the  Regiment.  Then  Attar  Singh  returned  to  the 
Regiment,   and  laid  this  last  trouble  before  Rutton 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  223 

Singh,  the  eldest  brother.  But  Rutton  Singh  could  not 
get  leave  all  at  once.' 

'Because  he  was  drill-Naik  and  the  recruits  were  to 
be  drilled.  I  myself  told  him  so,'  said  the  Subadar- 
Major.  *He  was  a  well-conducted  man.  He  said  he 
could  wait.' 

*But  when  permission  was  granted,  those  two  took 
four  days'  leave,'  the  Chaplain  went  on. 

*I  do  not  think  Attar  Singh  should  have  taken 
Baynes  Sahib's  revolver.  He  was  Baynes  Sahib's 
orderly,  and  all  that  Sahib's  things  were  open  to  him. 
It  was,  therefore,  as  I  count  it,  shame  to  Attar  Singh,* 
said  the  Subadar-Major. 

'All  the  words  had  been  said.  There  was  need  of 
arms,  and  how  could  soldiers  use  Government  rifles 
upon  mere  cultivators  in  the  fields?'  the  Regimental 
Chaplain  replied.  'Moreover,  the  revolver  was  sent 
back,  together  with  a  money-order  for  the  cartridges 
expended.  "  Borrow  not;  hut  if  thou  borrowest,  pay  hack 
soon  I"  That  is  written  in  the  Hymns.  Rutton  Singh 
took  a  sword,  and  he  and  Attar  Singh  went  to  Pishapur 
and,  after  word  given,  the  four  brethren  fell  upon  their 
persecutors  in  Pishapur  village  and  slew  seventeen, 
wounding  ten.  A  revolver  is  better  than  a  lawsuit. 
I  say  that  these  four  brethren,  the  two  with  us,  and  the 
two  mere  cultivators,  slew  and  wounded  twenty-seven — 
all  their  mother's  kin,  male  and  female. 

'Then  the  four  mounted  to  their  housetop,  and  Attar 
Singh,  who  was  always  one  of  the  impetuous,  said  "My 
work  is  done,"  and  he  made  shinan  (purification)  in 


224         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

all   men's   sight,   and   he  lent   Rutton   Singh    Baynes 
Sahib's  revolver,  and  Rutton  Singh  shot  him  in  the  head. 

'So  Attar  Singh  abandoned  his  body,  as  an  insect 
abandons  a  blade  of  grass.  But  Rutton  Singh,  having 
more  work  to  do,  went  down  from  the  housetop  and 
sought  an  enemy  whom  he  had  forgotten — a  Patiala 
man  of  this  regiment  who  had  sided  with  the  persecu- 
tors. When  he  overtook  the  man,  Rutton  Singh  hit 
him  twice  with  bullets  and  once  with  the  sword.' 

*But  the  man  escaped  and  is  now  in  the  hospital 
here,'  said  the  Subadar-Major.  *The  doctor  says  he 
will  live  in  spite  of  all.' 

*Not  Rutton  Singh's  fault.  Rutton  Singh  left  him 
for  dead.  Then  Rutton  Singh  returned  to  the  housetop, 
and  the  three  brothers  together.  Attar  Singh  being  dead, 
sent  word  by  a  lad  to  the  police  station  for  an  army  to 
be  dispatched  against  them  that  they  might  die  with 
honours.  But  none  came.  And  yet  Patiala  State  is 
not  under  English  law  and  they  should  know  virtue 
there  when  they  see  it ! 

*So,  on  the  third  day,  Rutton  Singh  also  made  shinan, 
and  the  youngest  of  the  brethren  shot  him  also  in  the 
head,  and  he  abandoned  his  body. 

'Thus  was  all  correct.  There  was  neither  heat,  nor 
haste,  nor  abuse  in  the  matter  from  end  to  end.  There 
remained  alive  not  one  man  or  woman  of  their  mother's 
kin  which  had  oppressed  them.  Of  the  other  villagers 
of  Pishapur,  who  had  taken  no  part  in  the  persecutions, 
not  one  was  slain.  Indeed,  the  villagers  sent  them 
food  on  the  housetop  for  those  three  days  while  they 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  225 

waited   for  the  police  who  would  not   dispatch  that 
army. 

*  Listen  again!  I  know  that  Attar  Singh  and  Rutton 
Singh  omitted  no  ceremony  of  the  purifications,  and 
when  all  was  done  Baynes  Sahib's  revolver  was  thrown 
down  from  the  housetop,  together  with  three  rupees 
twelve  annas;  and  order  was  given  for  its  return  by 
post. 

*And  what  befell  the  two  younger  brethren  who  were 
not  in  the  service?'  the  Havildar-Major  asked. 

'Doubtless  they  too  are  dead,  but  since  they  were 
not  in  the  Regiment  their  honour  concerns  themselves 
[)nly.  So  far  as  we  were  touched,  see  how  correctly 
ive  came  out  of  the  matter!  I  think  the  King  should 
be  told;  for  where  could  you  match  such  a  tale  except 
among  us  Sikhs  ?  Sri  wdh  guru  ji  ki  Khalsa  I  Sri  wah 
luruji  kifutteh  r  said  the  Regimental  Chaplain. 

'Would  three  rupees  twelve  annas  pay  for  the  used 
:artridges?'  said  the  Havildar-Major. 

*  Attar  Singh  knew  the  just  price.  All  Baynes 
Sahib's  gear  was  in  his  charge.  They  expended  one  tin 
box  of  fifty  cartouches,  lacking  two  which  were  re- 
turned. As  I  said — as  I  say — the  arrangement  was 
nade  not  with  heat  nor  blasphemies  as  a  Mussulman 
»vould  have  made  it;  not  with  cries  nor  caperings  as  an 
dolater  would  have  made  it;  but  conformably  to  the 
ritual  and  doctrine  of  the  Sikhs.  Hear  you !  "  Though 
'tundreds  of  amusements  are  offered  to  a  child  it  cannot 
'ive  without  milk.  If  a  man  he  divorced  from  his  soul  and 
'lis  soul's  desire  he  certainly  will  not  stop  to  play  upon  the 


226         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

roady  hut  he  will  make  haste  with  his  pilgrimage.'*  Thai 
is  written.     I  rejoice  in  my  disciples.' 

*Truel  True!  Correct!  Correct!' said  the  Subadar 
Major.  There  was  a  long,  easy  silence.  One  heard  < 
water-wheel  creaking  somewhere  and  the  nearer  sounc 
of  meal  being  ground  in  a  quern. 

*  But  he — '  the  Chaplain  pointed  a  scornful  chin  at  the 
Havildar-Major — 'he  has  been  so  long  in  Englanc 
that ' 

'Let  the  lad  alone/  said  his  uncle.  *He  was  but  twc 
months  there,  and  he  was  chosen  for  good  cause.' 

Theoretically,  all  Sikhs  are  equal.  Practically,  then 
are  differences,  as  none  know  better  than  well-born 
land-owning  folk,  or  long-descended  chaplains  fron 
Amritsar. 

*Hast  thou  heard  anything  in  England  to  match  mj 
tale?'  the  Chaplain  sneered. 

*I  saw  more  than  I  could  understand,  so  I  hav( 
locked  up  my  stories  in  my  own  mouth,'  the  Havildar- 
Major  replied  meekly. 

'Stories?  What  stories?  I  know  all  the  storiej 
about  England,'  said  the  Chaplain.  *I  know  thai 
terains  run  underneath  their  bazaars  there,  and  as  foi 
their  streets  stinking  with  motakahars,  only  this  morning 
I  was  nearly  killed  by  Duggan  Sahib's  mota-kahar 
That  young  man  is  a  devil.' 

*I  expect  Grunthi-jee,'  said  the  Subadar-Major,  *yoi 
and  I  grow  too  old  to  care  for  the  Kahar-ki-nautch— 
the  Bearer's  dance.'  He  named  one  of  the  sauciesi 
of  the  old-time  nautches,  and  smiled  at  his  own  pun 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  227 

hen  he  turned  to  his  nephew.  'When  I  was  a  lad  and 
ime  back  to  my  village  on  leave,  I  waited  the  con- 
mient  hour,  and,  the  elders  giving  permission,  I  spoke 

what  I  had  seen  elsewhere.' 

*Ay,  my  father,'  said  the  Havildar-Major,  softly  and 
Fectionately.  He  sat  himself  down  with  respect,  as 
ihoved  a  mere  lad  of  thirty  with  a  bare  half-dozen 
mpaigns  to  his  credit. 

*  There  were  four  men  in  this  affair  also,'  he  began, 
nd  it  was  an  affair  that  touched  the  honour,  not  of 
le  regiment,  nor  two,  but  of  all  the  Army  in  Hind. 
>me  part  of  it  I  saw;  some  I  heard;  but  all  the  tale  is 
ue.  My  father's  brother  knows,  and  my  priest  knows, 
at  I  was  in  England  on  business  with  my  Colonel, 
[len  the  King — the  Great  Queen's  son — completed  his 
e. 

'First,  there  was  a  rumour  that  sickness  was  upon 
m.     Next,  we  knew  that  he  lay  sick  in  the  Palace. 

very  great  multitude  stood  outside  the  Palace  by 
ght  and  by  day,  in  the  rain  as  well  as  the  sun,  waiting 
r  news. 

'Then  came  out  one  with  a  written  paper,  and  set  it 
>on  a  gate-side — the  word  of  the  King's  death — and 
ey  read,  and  groaned.  This  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes, 
cause  the  office  where  my  Colonel  Sahib  went  daily 

talk  with  Colonel  Forsyth  Sahib  was  at  the  east  end 

the  very  gardens  where  the  Palace  stood.     They 
e  larger  gardens  than  Shalimar  here' — he  pointed  with 
5  chin  up  the  lines — *or  Shahdera  across  the  river. 
'Next  day  there  was  a  darkness  in  the  streets,  be- 


228         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

cause  all  the  city's  multitude  were  clad  in  black  gar 
ments,  and  they  spoke  as  a  man  speaks  in  the  presenc( 
of  his  dead — all  those  multitudes.  In  the  eyes,  in  th( 
air,  and  in  the  heart,  there  was  blackness.  I  saw  it 
But  that  is  not  my  tale. 

'After  ceremonies  had  been  accomplished,  and  wore 
had  gone  out  to  the  Kings  of  the  Earth  that  they  shoulc 
come  and  mourn,  the  new  King — the  dead  King's  son- 
gave  commandment  that  his  father's  body  should  b( 
laid,  coffined,  in  a  certain  Temple  which  is  near  th< 
river.  There  are  no  idols  in  that  Temple;  neither  an^ 
carvings,  nor  paintings,  nor  gildings.  It  is  all  gre] 
stone,  of  one  colour  as  though  it  were  cut  out  of  th( 
live  rock.  It  is  larger  than — yes,  than  the  Durba 
Sahib  at  Amritsar,  even  though  the  Akal  Bunga  anc 
the  Baba-Atal  were  added.  How  old  it  may  be  Go( 
knows.     It  is  the  Sahibs'  most  sacred  Temple. 

*In  that  place,  by  the  new  King's  commandment 
they  made,  as  it  were,  a  shrine  for  a  saint,  with  lightec 
candles  at  the  head  and  the  feet  of  the  Dead,  and  dul] 
appointed  watchers  for  every  hour  of  the  day  and  th( 
night,  until  the  dead  King  should  be  taken  to  the  plaa 
of  his  fathers,  which  is  at  Wanidza. 

*When  all  was  in  order,  the  new  King  said,  "Giv( 
entrance  to  all  people,"  and  the  doors  were  opened 
and  O  my  uncle!  O  my  teacher!  all  the  world  entered 
walking  through  that  Temple  to  take  farewell  of  th( 
Dead.  There  was  neither  distinction,  nor  price,  no 
ranking  in  the  host,  except  an  order  that  they  shoulc 
walk  by  fours. 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  229 

'As  they  gathered  in  the  streets  without — very,  very 
ir  ofF — so  they  entered  the  Temple,  walking  by  fours: 
le  child,  the  old  man;  mother,  virgin,  harlot,  trader, 
riest;  of  all  colours  and  faiths  and  customs  under  the 
rmament  of  God,  from  dawn  till  late  at  night.  I  saw  it. 
ly  Colonel  gave  me  leave  to  go.  I  stood  in  the  line, 
lany  hours,  one  koss,  two  koss,  distant  from  the  temple.' 

*Then  why  did  the  multitude  not  sit  down  under 
le  trees?'  asked  the  priest. 

'Because  we  were  still  between  houses.  The  city  is 
any  koss  wide,'  the  Havildar-Major  resumed.  *I 
ibmitted  myself  to  that  slow-moving  river  and  thus — 
lus — a  pace  at  a  time — I  made  pilgrimage.  There 
ere  in  my  rank  a  woman,  a  cripple,  and  a  lascar  from 
e  ships. 
*When  we  entered  the  Temple,  the  coffin  itself  was 

a  shoal  in  the  Ravi  River,  splitting  the  stream  into 
^o  branches,  one  on  either  side  of  the  Dead;  and  the 
itchers  of  the  Dead,  who  were  soldiers,  stood  about 
,  moving  no  more  than  the  still  flame  of  the  candles, 
leir  heads  were  bowed;  their  hands  were  clasped; 
eir  eyes  were  cast  upon  the  ground — thus.  They 
;re  not  men,  but  images,  and  the  multitude  went  past 
em  in  fours  by  day,  and,  except  for  a  little  while,  by 
ght  also. 
*No,  there  was  no  order  that  the  people  should  come 

pay  respect.  It  was  a  free-will  pilgrimage.  Eight 
iigs  had  been  commanded  to  come — ^who  obeyed — 
Lt  upon  his  own  Sahibs  the  new  King  laid  no  command- 
ant.    Of  themselves  they  came. 


230         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*I  made  pilgrimage  twice:  once  for  my  Salt's  sak 
and  once  again  for  wonder  and  terror  and  worshi 
But  my  mouth  cannot  declare  one  thing  of  a  hundre 
thousand  things  in  this  matter.     There  were  lakhs 
lakhsy  crores  of  crores  of  people.     I  saw  them.' 

*More  than  at  our  great  pilgrimages?'  the  Regiment 
Chaplain  demanded. 

*  Yes.  Those  are  only  cities  and  districts  coming  oi 
to  pray.  This  was  the  world  walking  in  grief.  Ar 
now,  hear  you!  It  is  the  King's  custom  that  foi 
swords  of  Our  Armies  in  Hind  should  stand  alwa; 
before  the  Presence  in  case  of  need.' 

*The  King's  custom,  our  right,'  said  the  Subada 
Major  curtly. 

*Also  our  right.  These  honoured  ones  are  change 
after  certain  months  or  years,  that  the  honour  may  1 
fairly  spread.  Now  it  chanced  that  when  the  old  Kir 
— ^the  Queen's  son — completed  his  days,  the  four  th; 
stood  in  the  Presence  were  Goorkhas.  Neither  Sikl 
alas,  nor  Pathans,  Rajputs,  nor  Jats.  Goorkhas,  rr 
father.' 

'Idolaters,'  said  the  Chaplain. 

*But  soldiers;  for  I  remember  in  the  Tirah '  tl 

Havildar-Major  began. 

'But  soldiers,  for  I  remember  fifteen  campaign 
Go  on,'  said  the  Subadar-Major. 

'And  it  was  their  honour  and  right  to  furnish  or 
who  should  stand  in  the  Presence  by  day  and  by  nigl 
till  It  went  out  to  burial.  There  were  no  more  tha 
four  all  told — four  old  men  to  furnish  that  guard.' 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  231 

*01d  ?  Old  ?  What  talk  is  this  of  old  men  ? '  said  the 
ubadar-Major. 

*Nay.  My  fault!  Your  pardon!'  The  Havildar- 
lajor  spread  a  deprecating  hand.  *They  were  strong, 
ot,  valiant  men,  and  the  youngest  was  a  lad  of  forty- 


ve/ 


*That  is  better,'  the  Subadar-Major  laughed. 

*But  for  all  their  strength  and  heat  they  could  not 
at  strange  food  from  the  Sahibs'  hands.  There  was 
o  cooking  place  in  the  Temple;  but  a  certain  Colonel 
orsyth  Sahib,  who  had  understanding,  made  arrange- 
lent  whereby  they  should  receive  at  least  a  little  caste- 
ean  parched  grain;  also  cold  rice  maybe,  and  water 
hich  was  pure.  Yet,  at  best,  this  was  no  more  than 
hen's  mouthful,  snatched  as  each  came  off  his  guard, 
hey  lived  on  graip  and  were  thankful,  as  the  saying  is. 

*One  hour's  guard  in  every  four  was  each  man's 
urden,  for,  as  I  have  shown,  they  were  but  four  all  told ; 
[id  the  honour  of  Our  Armies  in  Hind  was  on  their 
eads.  The  Sahibs  could  draw  upon  all  the  armies  in 
ngland  for  the  other  watchers — ^thousands  upon  thou- 
mds  of  fresh  men — if  they  needed;  but  these  four  were 
Lit  four. 

*The  Sahibs  drew  upon  the  Granadeers  for  the  other 
atchers.  Granadeers  be  very  tall  men  under  very 
ill  bearskins,  such  as  Fusilier  regiments  wear  in  cold 
eather.  Thus,  when  a  Granadeer  bowed  his  head 
Lit  a  very  little  over  his  stock,  the  bearskin  sloped 
id  showed  as  though  he  grieved  exceedingly.  Now 
le  Goorkhas  wear  flat,  green  caps * 


232         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*I  see,  I  see/  said  the  Subadar-Major  impatiently. 

*They  are  bull-necked,  too;  and  their  stocks  are  hare 
and  when  they  bend  deeply — deeply — to  match  th 
Granadeers — ^they  come  nigh  to  choking  themselvei 
That  was  a  handicap  against  them,  when  it  came  to  th 
observance  of  ritual. 

*Yet  even  with  their  tall,  grief-declaring  bearskins 
the  Granadeers  could  not  endure  the  full  hour's  guar 
in  the  Presence.  There  was  good  cause,  as  I  will  shov 
why  no  man  could  endure  that  terrible  hour.  So  fc 
them  the  hour's  guard  was  cut  to  one-half.  What  di 
it  matter  to  the  Sahibs?  They  could  draw  on  te 
thousand  Granadeers.  Forsyth  Sahib,  who  had  con 
prehension,  put  this  choice  also  before  the  four,  and  the 
said,  "No,  ours  is  the  Honour  of  the  Armies  of  Hinc 
Whatever  the  Sahibs  do,  we  will  suffer  the  full  hour." 

'Forsyth  Sahib,  seeing  that  they  were — knowing  ths 
they  could  neither  sleep  long  nor  eat  much,  said,  "Is  i 
great  suffering?"  They  said,  "It  is  great  honour.  W 
will  endure." 

*  Forsyth  Sahib,  who  loves  us,  said  then  to  the  eldes 
"Ho,  father,  tell  me  truly  what  manner  of  burden  it  i: 
for  the  full  hour's  watch  breaks  up  our  men  like  water. 

'The  eldest  answered,  "Sahib,  the  burden  is  the  fee 
of  the  multitude  that  pass  us  on  either  side.  Our  eye 
being  lowered  and  fixed,  we  see  those  feet  only  froi 
the  knee  down — a  river  of  feet.  Sahib,  that  never — neve 
— never  stops.  It  is  not  the  standing  without  an 
motion;  it  is  not  hunger;  nor  is  it  the  dead  part  befoi 
the  dawn  when  maybe  a  single  one  comes  here  to  weej 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  233 

is  the  burden  of  the  unendurable  procession  of  feet 
om  the  knee  down,  that  never — never — never  stops!" 
*  Forsyth  Sahib  said,  "By  God,  I  had  not  considered 
at!  Now  I  know  why  our  men  come  trembhng  and 
bitching  off  that  guard.  But  at  least,  my  father,  ease 
e  stock  a  Httle  beneath  the  bent  chin  for  that  one 


)ur." 


*The  eldest  said,  "We  are  in  the  Presence.  Moreover 
e  knew  every  button  and  braid  and  hook  of  every 
liform  in  all  His  armies." 

*Then  Forsyth  Sahib  said  no  more,  except  to  speak 
►out  their  parched  grain,  but  indeed  they  could  not 
t  much  after  their  hour,  nor  could  they  sleep  much 
:cause  of  eye-twitchings  and  the  renewed  procession 
the  feet  before  the  eyes.  Yet  they  endured  each  his 
11  hour — not  half  an  hour — his  one  full  hour  in  each 
ur  hours.' 

'Correct!  correct!'  said  the  Subadar-Major  and  the 
laplain  together.  *  We  come  well  out  of  this  affair.' 
'  But  seeing  that  they  were  old  men,'  said  theSubadar- 
ajor  reflectively,  *very  old  men,  worn  out  by  lack 
food  and  sleep,  could  not  arrangements  have  been 
ade,  or  influence  have  been  secured,  or  a  petition 
esented,  whereby  a  well-born  Sikh  might  have  eased 
em  of  some  portion  of  their  great  burden,  even  though 

s  substantive  rank ' 

*Then  they  would  most  certainly  have  slain  me,'  said 
e  Havildar-Major  with  a  smile. 

*  And  they  would  have  done  correctly,'  said  the  Chap- 
in.     *What  befell  the  honourable  ones  later?' 


234         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'This.  The  Kings  of  the  earth  and  all  the  Armies 
sent  flowers  and  such-like  to  the  dead  King's  palace  at 
Wanidza,  where  the  funeral  offerings  were  accepted. 
There  was  no  order  given,  but  all  the  world  made  obla- 
tion. So  the  four  took  counsel — three  at  a  time — and 
either  they  asked  Forsyth  Sahib  to  choose  flowers,  oi 
themselves  they  went  forth  and  bought  flowers — I  dc 
not  know;  but,  however  it  was  arranged,  the  flowers 
were  bought  and  made  in  the  shape  of  a  great  drum-likt 
circle  weighing  half  a  maund. 

'Forsyth  Sahib  had  said,  "Let  the  flowers  be  sent  tc 
Wanidza  with  the  other  flowers  which  all  the  world 
is  sending."  But  they  said  among  themselves,  "It  u 
not  fit  that  these  flowers,  which  are  the  offerings  of  Hif 
Armies  in  Hind,  should  come  to  the  Palace  of  the  Pres- 
ence by  the  hands  of  hirelings  or  messengers,  or  of  an^ 
man  not  in  His  service." 

'Hearing  this,  Forsyth  Sahib,  though  he  was  much 
occupied  with  office-work,  said,  "Give  me  the  flowerS; 
and  I  will  steal  a  time  and  myself  take  them  to  Wanid- 
za." 

*The  eldest  said,  "Since  when  has  Forsyth  Sahib 
worn  sword.?" 

'Forsyth  Sahib  said,  "But  always.  And  I  wear  it  ir 
the  Presence  when  I  put  on  uniform.  I  am  a  Colonel 
in  the  Armies  of  Hind."  The  eldest  said,  "Of  what 
regiment?"  And  Forsyth  Sahib  looked  on  the  car- 
pet and  pulled  the  hair  of  his  lip.  He  saw  the 
trap.' 

*  Forsyth  Sahib's  regiment  was  once  the  old  Forty- 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  235 

sixth    Pathans   which   was   called '   the   Subadar- 

Major  gave  the  almost  forgotten  title,  adding  that  he 
had  met  them  in  such  and  such  campaigns,  when  For- 
syth Sahib  was  a  young  captain. 

The  Havildar-Major  took  up  the  tale,  saying,  *The 
eldest  knew  that  also,  my  father.  He  laughed,  and 
presently  Forsyth  Sahib  laughed. 

*"It  is  true,"  said  Forsyth  Sahib.  "I  have  no  regi- 
ment. For  twenty  years  I  have  been  a  clerk  tied  to  a 
thick  pen.  Therefore  I  am  the  more  fit  to  be  your 
orderly  and  messenger  in  this  business." 

'The  eldest  then  said,  "If  it  were  a  matter  of  my  life 
or  the  honour  of  any  of  my  household,  it  would  be 
easy."  And  Forsjrth  Sahib  joined  his  hands  together, 
half  laughing,  though  he  was  ready  to  weep,  and  he  said, 
**  Enough !  I  ask  pardon.  Which  one  of  you  goes  with 
the  offering?" 

'The  eldest  said,  feigning  not  to  have  heard,  "Nor 
must  they  be  delivered  by  a  single  sword — as  though 
we  were  pressed  for  men  in  His  service,"  and  they  sa- 
luted and  went  out.' 

'Were  these  things  seen,  or  were  they  told  thee?'  said 
the  Subadar-Major. 

*I  both  saw  and  heard  in  the  office  full  of  books  and 
papers  where  my  Colonel  Sahib  consulted  Forsyth 
Sahib  upon  the  business  that  had  brought  my  Colonel 
Sahib  to  England.* 

'And  what  was  that  business?'  the  Regimental  Chap- 
lain asked  of  a  sudden,  looking  full  at  the  Havildar- 
Major,  who  returned  the  look  without  a  quiver. 


236         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*That  was  not  revealed  to  me,  said  the  Havildar- 
Major. 

*I  heard  it  might  have  been  some  matter  touching  the 
integrity  of  certain  regiments/  the  Chaplain  insisted. 

*The  matter  was  not  in  any  way  open  to  my  ears,' 
said  the  Havildar-Major. 

*  Humph!'  The  Chaplain  drew  his  hard  road-worn 
feet  under  his  robe.  *Let  us  hear  the  tale  that  it  is 
permitted  thee  to  tell,'  he  said,  and  the  Havildar-Major 
went  on: 

*So  then  the  three,  having  returned  to  the  Temple, 
called  the  fourth,  who  had  only  forty-five  years,  when 
he  came  off  guard,  and  said,  "We  go  to  the  Palace  at 
Wanidza  with  the  offerings.  Remain  thou  in  the  Pres- 
ence, and  take  all  our  guards,  one  after  the  other,  till  we 
return." 

*  Within  that  next  hour  they  hired  a  large  and  strong 
mota-kahar  for  the  journey  from  the  Temple  to  Wanidza, 
which  is  twenty  koss  or  more,  and  they  promised  expedi- 
tion. But  he  who  took  their  guards  said,  "^It  is  not 
seemly  that  we  should  for  any  cause  appear  to  be  in 
haste.  There  are  eighteen  medals  with  eleven  clasps 
and  three  Orders  to  consider.  Go  at  leisure.  I  can 
endure." 

*So  the  three  with  the  offerings  were  absent  three 
hours  and  a  half,  and  having  deHvered  the  offering  at 
Wanidza  in  the  correct  manner  they  returned  and  found 
the  lad  on  guard,  and  they  did  not  break  his  guard  till 
his  full  hour  was  ended.  So  he  endured  four  hours  in 
the  Presence,  not  stirring  one  hair,  his  eyes  abased,  and 


IN  THE  PRESENCE  237 

;he  river  of  feet,  from  the  knee  down,  passing  continually 
before  his  eyes.  When  he  was  relieved,  it  was  seen 
that  his  eyeballs  worked  like  weavers'  shuttles. 

*And  so  it  was  done — not  in  hot  blood,  not  for  a  little 
ivhile,  nor  yet  with  the  smell  of  slaughter  and  the  noise 
3f  shouting  to  sustain,  but  in  silence,  for  a  very  long 
time,  rooted  to  one  place  before  the  Presence  among  the 
most  terrible  feet  of  the  multitude.' 

*  Correct!'  the  Chaplain  chuckled. 

*  But  the  Goorkhas  had  the  honour,'  said  the  Subadar- 
Major  sadly. 

*  Theirs  was  the  Honour  of  His  Armies  in  Hind,  and 
that  was  Our  Honour,'  the  nephew  replied. 

*Yet  I  would  one  Sikh  had  been  concerned  in  it — 
5ven  one  low-caste  Sikh.     And  after?' 

'They  endured  the  burden  until  the  end — until  It 
went  out  of  the  Temple  to  be  laid  among  the  older 
kings  at  Wanidza.  When  all  was  accomplished  and  It 
ivas  withdrawn  under  the  earth,  Forsyth  Sahib  said  to 
the  four,  "The  King  gives  command  that  you  be  fed 
here  on  meat  cooked  by  your  own  cooks.  Eat  and  take 
ease,  my  fathers." 

*So  they  loosed  their  belts  and  ate.  They  had  not 
eaten  food  except  by  snatches  for  some  long  time;  and 
when  the  meat  had  given  them  strength  they  slept  for 
very  many  hours;  and  it  was  told  me  that  the  procession 
of  the  unendurable  feet  ceased  to  pass  before  their  eyes 
any  more.' 

He  threw  out  one  hand  palm  upward  to  show  that 
the  tale  was  ended. 


238         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*We  came  well  and  cleanly  out  of  it/  said  theSubadar- 
Major. 

'Correct!  Correct!  Correct!'  said  the  Regimental 
Chaplain.  *In  an  evil  age  it  is  good  to  hear  such 
things,  and  there  is  certainly  no  doubt  that  this  is  a  very 
evil  age.' 


JOBSON'S  AMEN 

'Blessed  be  the  English  and  all  their  ways  and  works. 
Cursed  be  the  Infidels,  Hereticks,  and  Turks!' 
*Amen/  quo'  Jobson,  *but  where  I  used  to  lie 
Was  neither  Candle,  Bell  nor  Book  to  curse  my  brethren 
by: 

*  But  a  palm-tree  in  full  bearing,  bowing  down,  bowing 

down. 
To  a  surf  that  drove  unsparing  at  the  brown-walled 

town — 
Conches  in  a  temple,  oil-lamps  in  a  dome — 
And  a  low  moon  out  of  Africa  said :    "This  way  home  1 " ' 

*  Blessed  be  the  English  and  all  that  they  profess. 
Cursed  be  the  Savages  that  prance  in  nakedness!' 
'Amen,'  quo'  Jobson,  *but  where  I  used  to  lie 

Was  neither  shirt  nor  pantaloons  to  catch  my  brethren 
by: 

'But  a  well-wheel  slowly  creaking,  going  round,  going 

round. 
By    a    water-channel    leaking    over    drowned,    warm 

ground — 
Parrots  very  busy  in  the  trellised  pepper-vine — 
And  a  high  sun  over  Asia  shouting:     "Rise  and  shine!**' 

239 


240         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  Blessed  be  the  English  and  everything  they  own. 
Cursed  be  the  Infidels  that  bow  to  wood  and  stone!* 
*Amen/  quo'  Jobson,  *but  where  I  used  to  lie 
Was  neither  pew  nor  Gospelleer  to  save  my  brethren  by. 

*But  a  desert  stretched  and  stricken,  left  and  right, 

left  and  right, 
Where    the    piled    mirages    thicken    under    white-hot 

light— 
A  skull  beneath  a  sand-hill  and  a  viper  coiled  inside — 
And   a  red  wind  out  of  Libya  roaring:     "Run   and 

hide!"' 

'Blessed  be  the  English  and  all  they  make  or  do. 
Cursed  be  the  Hereticks  who  doubt  that  this  is  true!* 
'Amen,'  quo'  Jobson,  'but  where  I  mean  to  die 
Is  neither  rule  nor  calHper  to  judge  the  matter  by: 

*But  Himalaya  heavenward-heading,  sheer  and  vast, 

sheer  and  vast, 
In  a  million  summits  bedding  on  the  last  world's  past; 
A  certain  sacred  mountain  where  the  scented  cedars 

climb. 
And — the  feet  of  my  Beloved  hurrying  back  through 

Time  1 ' 


Regulus 

(1917) 

Regulus,  a  Roman  general,  defeated  the  Carthaginians 
256  B.  C.y  hut  was  next  year  defeated  and  taken  prisoner 
hy  the  Carthaginians,  who  sent  him  to  Rome  with  an 
embassy  to  ask  for  peace  or  an  exchange  of  prisoners. 
Regulus  strongly  advised  the  Roman  Senate  to  make  no 
terms  with  the  enemy.  He  then  returned  to  Carthage  and 
was  put  to  death. 

The  Fifth  Form  had  been  dragged  several  times  in 
its  collective  life,  from  one  end  of  the  school  Horace  to 
the  other.  Those  were  the  years  when  Army  examiners 
gave  thousands  of  marks  for  Latin,  and  it  was  Mr. 
King's  hated  business  to  defeat  them. 

Hear  him,  then,  on  a  raw  November  morning  at 
second  lesson. 

*Aha!'  he  began,  rubbing  his  hands.  '  Cras  ingens 
iterahimus  aequor.  Our  portion  to-day  is  the  Fifth  Ode 
of  the  Third  Book,  I  believe — concerning  one  Regulus, 
a  gentleman.     And  how  often  have  we  been  through  it  ? ' 

'Twice,  sir,'  said  Malpass,  head  of  the  Form. 

Mr.  King  shuddered.  *Yes,  twice,  quite  literally,' 
he  said.  *To-day,  with  an  eye  to  your  Army  viva-voce 
examinations — ugh! — I  shall  exact  somewhat  freer  and 

241 


242         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

more  florid  rendirions.  With  feeling  and  comprehen- 
sion if  that  be  possible.  I  except' — here  his  eye  swept 
the  back  benches — *our  friend  and  companion  Beetle, 
from  whom,  now  as  always,  I  demand  an  absolutely 
Hteral  translation/     The  form  laughed  subserviently. 

*  Spare  his  blushes!     Beetle  charms  us  first.' 

Beetle  stood  up,  confident  in  the  possession  of  a 
guaranteed  construe,  left  behind  by  M'Turk,  who  had 
that  day  gone  into  the  sick-house  with  a  cold.  Yet  he 
was  too  wary  a  hand  to  show  confidence. 

'  Credidimus,  we — believe — ^we  have  believed,'  he 
opened  in  hesitating  slow  time,  Uonantem  J  oven,  thun- 
dering Jove — regnare,  to  reign — caelo,  in  heaven. 
Augustus,  Augustus — hahehitur,  will  be  held  or  con- 
sidered— praesens  divus,  a.  present  God — adjectis  Bri- 
tannis,  the  Britons  being  added — imperio,  to  the  Em- 
pire— gravihusque  Persis,  with  the  heavy — er,  stern 
Persians.' 

'What?' 

*The  grave  or  stern  Persians.'  Beetle  pulled  up 
with  the  *Thank-God-I-have-done-my-duty'  air  of 
Nelson  in  the  cockpit. 

*I  am  quite  aware,'  said  King,  *that  the  first  stanza 
is  about  the  extent  of  your  knowledge,  but  continue, 
sweet  one,  continue.  Gravibus,  by  the  way,  is  usually 
translated  as  ''troublesome.'" 

Beetle  drew  a  long  and  tortured  breath.  The  second 
stanza  (which  carries  over  to  the  third)  of  that  Ode  is 
what  is  technically  called  a  'stinker.'  But  M'Turk 
had  done  him  handsomely. 


REGULUS  243 

'Milesne  Crassi,  had— has  the  soldier  of  Crassus— 
lixity  lived— turpis  marituSy  a  disgraceful  husband      -' 

*You  slurred  the  quantity  of  the  word  after  turpis,' 
aid  King.     *  Let's  hear  it.' 

Beetle  guessed  again,  and  for  a  wonder  hit  the  correct 
quantity.  *Er— a  disgraceful  hush2ind—conjuge  bar- 
bar  a,  with  a  barbarous  spouse.' 

*Why  do  you  select  that  disgustful  equivalent  out  of 
all  the  dictionary?'  King  snapped.  *  Isn't  "wife"  good 
enough  for  you  ? ' 

'Yes,  sir.  But  what  do  I  do  about  this  bracket,  sir? 
Shall  I  take  it  now?' 

'Confine  yourself  at  present  to  the  soldier  of  Cras- 


sus. 


'Yes,  sir.  Et,  znd—consenuit,  has  he  grown  old— 
in  armis,  in  th^—er—^rms—hositum  socerorum,  of  his 
father-in-law's  enemies.' 

'Who?     How?    Which?' 

'Arms  of  his  enemies'  fathers-in-law,  sir.' 

'Tha-anks.  By  the  way,  what  meaning  might  you 
attach  to  in  armis  ? ' 

*0h,  weapons— weapons  of  war,  sir.'  There  was  a 
virginal  note  in  Beetle's  voice  as  though  he  had  been 
falsely  accused  of  uttering  indecencies.  'Shall  I  take 
the  bracket  now,  sir?' 

'Since  it  seems  to  be  troubling  you.' 

'Pro  Curia,  O  for  the  Senate  House—inversique  mores^ 
and  manners  upset — upside  down.' 

'Ve-ry  like  your  translation.  Meantime,  the  soldier 
of  Crassus  ? ' 


244         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Sub  rege  Medo,  under  a  Median  King — Marsus  et 
Apulus,  he  being  a  Marsian  and  an  Apulian.' 

'Who?    The  Median  King?' 

*No,  sir.  The  soldier  of  Crassus.  Ohlittus  agrees 
with  rnilesne  Crassly  sir/  volunteered  too-hasty  Beetle. 

*Does  it?     It  doesn't  with  me.^ 

'Oh'blight-us/  Beetle  corrected  hastily,  'forgetful — 
ancilioruniy  of  the  shields,  or  trophies — et  nominisy  and 
the — his  name — et  togae,  and  the  toga — eternaeque 
Vestae,  and  eternal  Vesta — incolumi  Jove,  Jove  being 
safe — et  urhe  Roma,  and  the  Roman  city.'  With  an  air 
of  hardly  restrained  zeal — 'Shall  I  go  on,  sir?' 

Mr.  King  winced.  'No,  thank  you.  You  have  in- 
deed given  us  a  translation !  May  I  ask  if  it  conveys 
any  meaning  whatever  to  your  so-called  mind?' 

'Oh,  I  think  so,  sir.'  This  with  gentle  toleration  for 
Horace  and  all  his  works. 

'We  envy  you.     Sit  down.' 

Beetle  sat  down  relieved,  well  knowing  that  a  reef 
of  uncharted  genitives  stretched  ahead  of  him,  on  which 
in  spite  of  M'Turk's  sailing-directions  he  would  infalli- 
bly have  been  wrecked. 

Rattray,  who  took  up  the  task,  steered  neatly  through 
them  and  came  unscathed  to  port. 

'Here  we  require  drama,'  said  King.  'Regulus  him- 
self is  speaking  now.  Who  shall  represent  the  provident- 
minded  Regulus  ?     Winton,  will  you  kindly  oblige  ?' 

Winton  of  King's  House,  a  long,  heavy,  tow-headed 
Second  Fifteen  forward,  overdue  for  his  First  Fifteen 
colours,  and  in  aspect  like  an  earnest,  elderly  horse. 


REGULUS  245 

rose  up,  and  announced,  among  other  things,  that  hehad 
seen  *  signs  affixed  to  Punic  deluges.'  Half  the  Form 
shouted  for  joy,  and  the  other  half  for  joy  that  there  was 
something  to  shout  about. 

Mr.  King  opened  and  shut  his  eyes  with  great  swift- 
ness.    '  Signa  adfixa  delubris,'  he  gasped.     *So  deluhris 

"deluges"  is  it.?  Winton,  in  all  our  dealings,  have  I 
ever  suspected  you  of  a  jest?' 

*No,  sir,'  said  the  rigid  and  angular  Winton,  while 
the  Form  rocked  about  him. 

'And  yet  you  assert  deluhris  means  "deluges." 
Whether  I  am  a  fit  subject  for  such  a  jape  is,  of  course, 

matter  of  opinion,  but.  .  .  .  Winton,  you  are 
normally  conscientious.  May  we  assume  you  looked 
out  deluhris  ? ' 

*No,  sir.'  Winton  was  privileged  to  speak  that 
truth  dangerous  to  all  who  stand  before  Kings. 

"Made  a  shot  at  it  th_n?' 

Every  line  of  Winton's  body  showed  he  had  done 
nothing  of  the  sort.  Indeed,  the  very  idea  that  *  Pater ' 
Winton  (and  a  boy  is  not  called  *  Pater'  by  companions 
for  his  frivolity)  would  make  a  shot  at  anything  was 
beyond  belief.  But  he  replied,  *  Yes,'  and  all  the  while 
worked  with  his  right  heel  as  though  he  were  heeling  a 
ball  at  punt-about. 

Though  none  dared  to  boast  of  being  a  favourite  with 
King,  the  taciturn,  three-cornered  Winton  stood  high 
in  his  House-Master's  opinion.  It  seemed  to  save  him 
neither  rebuke  nor  punishment,  but  the  two  were  in 
some  fashion  sympathetic. 


246         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Hm!'  said  King  drily.  *I  was  going  to  say — 
Flagitio  additis  damnum,  but  I  think — I  think  I  see 
the  process.     Beetle,  the  translation  of  delubris,  please.' 

Beetle  raised  his  head  from  his  shaking  arm  long 
enough  to  answer:     *  Ruins,  sir.* 

There  was  an  impressive  pause  while  King  checked 
off  crimes  on  his  fingers.  Then  to  Beetle  the  much- 
enduring  man  addressed  winged  words: 

*  Guessing,'  said  he.  *  Guessing,  Beetle,  as  usual, 
from  the  look  of  deluhris  that  it  bore  some  relation  to 
diluvium  or  deluge,  you  imparted  the  result  of  your 
half-baked  lucubrations  to  Winton  who  seems  to  have 
been  lost  enough  to  have  accepted  it.  Observing  next, 
your  companion's  fall,  from  the  presumed  security  of 
your  undistinguished  position  in  the  rear-guard,  you 
took  another  pot-shot.  The  turbid  chaos  of  your  mind 
threw  up  some  memory  of  the  word  "dilapidations" 
which  you  have  pitifully  attempted  to  disguise  under 
the  synonym  of  "ruins."' 

As  this  was  precisely  what  Beetle  had  done  he  looked 
hurt  but  forgiving.  'We  will  attend  to  this  later,'  said 
King.     *Go  on,  Winton,  and  retrieve  yourself.' 

Deluhris  happened  to  be  the  one  word  which  Winton 
had  not  looked  out  and  had  asked  Beetle  for,  when  they 
were  settling  into  their  places.  He  forged  ahead  with 
no  further  trouble.  Only  when  he  rendered  scilicet 
as  'forsooth,'  King  erupted. 

*Regulus,'  he  said,  'was  not  a  leader-writer  for  the 
penny  press,  nor,  for  that  matter,  was  Horace.  Regu- 
lus  says:     "The  soldier  ransomed  by  gold  will  come 


REGULUS  247 

eener  for  the  fight — will  he  by — by  gum!"  Thafs 
he  meaning  of  scilicet.  It  indicates  contempt — bitter 
ontempt.  "Forsooth,"  forsooth!  You'll  be  talking 
bout  "speckled  beauties"  and  "eventually  transpire" 
ext.  Howell,  what  do  you  make  of  that  doubled 
'Vidi  ego — ego  vidi"?  It  wasn't  put  in  to  fill  up  the 
net  re,  you  know.' 

*  Isn't  it  intensive,  sir?'  said  Howell,  afflicted  by  a 
genuine  interest  in  what  he  read.  *Regulus  was  a  bit 
n  earnest  about  Rome  making  no  terms  with  Carthage 
—and  he  wanted  to  let  the  Romans  understand  it, 
lidn't  he,  sir?' 

*Less  than  your  usual  grace,  but  the  fact.  Regulus 
vas  in  earnest.  He  was  also  engaged  at  the  same  time 
n  cutting  his  own  throat  with  every  word  he  uttered. 
le  knew  Carthage  which  (your  examiners  won't  ask  you 
his  so  you  needn't  take  notes)  was  a  sort  of  God- 
orsaken  nigger  Manchester.  Regulus  was  not  thinking 
ibout  his  own  life.  He  was  telling  Rome  the  truth, 
ie  was  playing  for  his  side.  Those  lines  from  the 
iighteenth  to  the  fortieth  ought  to  be  written  in  blood, 
f  et  there  are  things  in  human  garments  which  will  tell 
TOM  that  Horace  was  a  flaneur — a  man  about  town. 
Woid  such  beings.  Horace  knew  a  very  great  deal. 
le  knew!  Erit  ille  fortis — "will  he  be  brave  who  once 
o  faithless  foes  has  knelt?"  And  again  (stop  pawing 
vith  your  hooves,  Thornton!)  hie  unde  vitam  sumeret 
nscius.  That  means  roughly — but  I  perceive  I  am 
ihead  of  my  translators.  Begin  at  hie  unde,  Vernon, 
md  let  us  see  if  you  have  the  spirit  of  Regulus.' 


248         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Now  no  one  expected  fireworks  from  gentle  Paddy 
Vernon,  sub-prefect  of  Hartopp's  House,  but,  as  must 
often  be  the  case  with  growing  boys,  his  mind  was  in 
abeyance  for  the  time  being,  and  he  said,  all  in  a  rush, 
on  behalf  of  Regulus:  *(9  magna  Carthago  probrosis 
altior  Italiae  minis,  O  Carthage,  thou  wilt  stand  forth 
higher  than  the  ruins  of  Italy/ 

Even  Beetle,  most  lenient  of  critics,  was  interested 
at  this  point,  though  he  did  not  join  the  half-groan  of 
reprobation  from  the  wiser  heads  of  the  Form. 

'Please  don't  mind  me,'  said  King,  and  Vernon  very 
kindly  did  not.  He  ploughed  on  thus:  *He  (Regulus) 
is  related  to  have  removed  from  himself  the  kiss  of  the 
shameful  wife  and  of  his  small  children  as  less  by  the 
head,  and,  being  stern,  to  have  placed  his  virile  visage 
on  the  ground.' 

Since  King  loved  *  virile'  about  as  much  as  he  did 
*  spouse'  or  'forsooth'  the  Form  looked  up  hopefully. 
But  Jove  thundered  not. 

*  Until,'  Vernon  continued,  *he  should  have  confirmed 
the  sliding  fathers  as  being  the  author  of  counsel  never 
given  under  an  alias.' 

He  stopped,  conscious  of  stillness  round  him  like  the 
dread  calm  of  the  typhoon's  centre.  King's  opening 
voice  was  sweeter  than  honey. 

*I  am  painfully  aware  by  bitter  experience  that  I 
cannot  give  you  any  idea  of  the  passion,  the  power,  the 
— the  essential  guts  of  the  lines  which  you  have  so 

foully  outraged  in  our  presence.     But '  the  note 

changed,  *so  far  as  in  me  lies,  I  will  strive  to  bring  home 


REGULUS  249 

o  you,  Vernon,  the  fact  that  there  exist  in  Latin  a  few  piti- 
ul  rules  of  grammar,  of  syntax,  nay,  even  of  declension, 
irhich  were  not  created  for  your  incult  sport — your 
Boeotian  diversion.  You  will,  therefore,  Vernon,  write 
•ut  and  bring  to  me  to-morrow  a  word-for-word 
Lnglish-Latin  translation  of  the  Ode,  together  with  a 
ull  list  of  all  adjectives — an  adjective  is  not  a  verb, 
lernouy  as  the  Lower  Third  will  tell  you — all  adjectives, 
heir  number,  case,  and  gender.  Even  now  I  haven't 
tegun  to  deal  with  you  faithfully.' 

*I — Fm  very  sorry,  sir,'  Vernon  stammered. 

'You  mistake  the  symptoms,  Vernon.  You  are 
)0ssibly  discomfited  by  the  imposition,  but  sorrow 
)ostulates  some  sort  of  mind,  intellect,  nous.  Your 
endering  of  probrosis  alone  stamps  you  as  lower  than 
he  beasts  of  the  field.     Will  some  one  take  the  taste 

)ut  of  our  mouths  ?    And  — ^talking  of  tastes '     He 

:oughed.  There  was  a  distinct  flavour  of  chlorine^ gas 
n  the  air.  Up  went  an  eyebrow,  though  King  knew 
)erfectly  well  what  it  meant. 

*Mr.  Hartopp's  st — science  class  next  door,'  said 
Vlalpass. 

'Oh  yes.  I  had  forgotten.  Our  newly  established 
Vlodern  Side,  of  course.  Perowne,  open  the  windows; 
ind  Winton,  go  on  once  more  from  inter  que  maerentesJ 

'And  hastened  away,'  said  Winton,  'surrounded  by 
lis  mourning  friends,  into — into  illustrious  banishment. 
3ut  I  got  that  out  of  Conington,  sir,'  he  added  in  one 
ronscientious  breath. 

'I  am  aware.     The  master  generally  knows  his  ass's 


250         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

crib,  though  I  acquit  you  of  any  intention  that  way 
Can  you  suggest  anything  for  egregius  exul?  Onh 
'^egregious  exile"?  I  fear  "egregious"  is  a  good  won 
ruined.  No!  You  can't  in  this  case  improve  on  Con 
ington.  Now  then  for  atqu  sciehat  quae  sibi  barbaru 
tortor  pararet.     The  whole  force  of  it  lies  in  the  atqui. 

'Although  he  knew/  Winton  suggested. 

'Stronger  than  that,  I  think.' 

*He  who  knew  well,'  Malpass  interpolated. 

'Ye-es.  ''Well  though  he  knew."  I  don't  lik 
Conington's  "well-witting."     It's  Wardour  Street.* 

'Well  though  he  knew  what  the  savage  torturer  was— 
was  getting  ready  for  him,'  said  Winton. 

'  Ye-es.     Had  in  store  for  him.' 

'Yet  he  brushed  aside  his  kinsmen  and  the  peopl 
delaying  his  return.' 

*  Ye-es;  but  then  how  do  you  render  obstantes?' 

'If  it's  a  free  translation  mightn't  obstantes  an( 
morantem  come  to  about  the  same  thing,  sir.?' 

'Nothing  comes  to  "about  the  same  thing"  witl 
Horace,  Winton.  As  I  have  said,  Horace  was  not  ; 
journalist.  No,  I  take  it  that  his  kinsmen  bodily  with 
stood  his  departure,  whereas  the  crowd — populumque— 
the  democracy  stood  about  futilely  pitying  him  anc 
getting  in  the  way.  Now  for  that  noblest  of  endings— 
quam  si  clientum,''  and  King  ran  off  into  the  quotation 

*As  though  some  tedious  business  o'er 
Of  clients'  court,  his  journey  lay 
Towards  Venafrum's  grassy  floor 
Or  Sparta-built  Tarentum's  bay. 


REGULUS  251 

All  right,  Winton.     Beetle,  when  youVe  quite  finished 
']  dodging  the  fresh  air  yonder,  give  me  the  meaning  of 
tendens — and  turn  down  your  collar/ 

*Me,  sir?     Tendens,  sir?     Oh!     Stretching  away  in 
'•j  the  direction  of,  sir/ 

'Idiot!  Regulus  was  not  a  feature  of  the  landscape. 
He  was  a  man,  self-doomed  to  death  by  torture.  Atqui 
iciehat — knowing  it — having  achieved  it  for  his  coun 
try's  sake — can't  you  hear  that  atqui  cut  like  a  knife? — 
he  moved  off  with  some  dignity.  That  is  why  Horace 
out  of  the  whole  golden  Ladn  tongue  chose  the  one  word 
** tendens" — ^which  is  utterly  untranslatable.' 

The  gross  injustice  of  being  asked  to  translate  it, 
converted  Beetle  into  a  young  Christian  martyr,  till 
King  buried  his  nose  in  his  handkerchief  again. 

*I  think  they've  broken  another  gas-bottle  next  door, 
sir,'  said  Howell.  *  They're  always  doing  it.'  The 
Form  coughed  as  more  chlorine  came  in. 

'Well,  I  suppose  we  must  be  patient  with  the  Modern 
Side,'  said  King.  'But  it  is  almost  insupportable  for 
this  Side.     Vernon,  what  are  you  grinning  at?' 

Vernon's  mind  had  returned  to  him  glowing  and  in- 
spired.    He  chuckled  as  he  underlined  his  Horace. 

'It  appears  to  amuse  you,'  said  King.  'Let  us 
participate.     What  is  it?' 

'The  last  two  Hnes  of  the  Tenth  Ode,  in  this  book, 
sir,'  was  Vernon's  amazing  reply. 

'What?  Oh,  I  see.  Non  hoc  semper  erit  liminis 
aut    aquae    caelestis    patiens    latus/^     King's    mouth 

^'This  side  will  not  always  be  patient  of  rain  and  waiting  on 
the  threshold.* 


.r\ 


252         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

twitched  to  hide  a  grin.  *Was  that  done  with  inten- 
tion ? ' 

'I — I  thought  it  fitted,  sir.' 

*It  does.  It's  distinctly  happy.  What  put  it  into 
your  thick  head,  Paddy?' 

*I  don't  know,  sir,  except  we  did  the  Ode  last 
term.' 

*  And  you  remembered  ?  The  same  head  that  minted 
probrosis  Rs  z  verb \  Vernon,  you  are  an  enigma.  No! 
This  Side  will  not  always  be  patient  of  unheavenly  gases 
and  waters.  I  will  make  representations  to  our  so- 
called  Moderns.  Meantime  (who  shall  say  I  am  not 
just?)  I  remit  you  your  accrued  pains  and  penalties  in 
regard  to  probrosim,  probrosisy  probrosit  and  other 
enormities.  I  oughtn  t  to  do  it,  but  this  Side  is  occa- 
sionally human.     By  no  means  bad,  Paddy.' 

'Thank  you,  sir,'  said  Vernon,  wondering  how  inspira- 
tion had  visited  him. 

Then  King,  with  a  few  brisk  remarks  about  Science, 
headed  them  back  to  Regulus,  of  whom  and  of  Horace 
and  Rome  and  evil-minded  commercial  Carthage  and 
of  the  democracy  eternally  futile,  he  explained,  in  all 
ages  and  climes,  he  spoke  for  ten  minutes;  passing 
thence  to  the  next  Ode — Delicta  Majorum— where  he 
fetched  up,  full-voiced,  upon — *  Dis  te  minor  em  quod 
geris  imperas'  (Thou  rulest  because  thou  bearest  thy- 
self as  lower  than  the  Gods) — making  it  a  text  for  a 
discourse  on  manners,  morals,  and  respect  for  authority 
as  distinct  from  bottled  gases,  which  lasted  till  the  bell 
rang.     Then  Beetle,  concertinaing  his  books,  observed 


REGULUS  253 

to  Winton,  *When  King's  really  on  tap  he's  an  inter- 
estin'  dog.     Hartopp's  chlorine  uncorked  him.' 

*  Yes;  but  why  did  you  tell  me  deluhris  was  "deluges," 
you  silly  ass?'  said  Winton. 

*Well,  that  uncorked  him  too.  Look  out,  you  hoof- 
handed  old  owl!'  Winton  had  cleared  for  action  as  the 
Form  poured  out  Hke  puppies  at  play  and  was  scragging 
Beetle.  Stalky  from  behind  collared  Winton  low. 
The  three  fell  in  confusion. 

'  Dis  te  minor  em  quod  geris  imperas^  quoth  Stalky, 
ruffling  Winton's  lint-white  locks.  "Mustn't  jape  with 
Number  Five  study.  Don't  be  too  virtuous.  Don't 
brood  over  it.  'Twon't  count  against  you  in  your 
future  caree-ah.     Cheer  up.  Pater.' 

*  Pull  him  ofF  my — er — essential  guts,  will  you  ? '  said 
Beetle  from  beneath.     'He's  squashin'  'em.' 

They  dispersed  to  their  studies. 


No  one,  the  owner  least  of  all,  can  explain  what  is  in 
a  growing  boy's  mind.  It  might  have  been  the  blind 
ferment  of  adolescence;  Stalky's  random  remarks  about 
virtue  might  have  stirred  him;  like  his  betters  he  might 
have  sought  popularity  by  way  of  clowning;  or,  as  the 
Head  asserted  years  later,  the  only  known  jest  of  his 
serious  life  might  have  worked  on  him,  as  a  sober-sided 
man's  one  love  colours  and  dislocates  all  his  after  days. 
But,  at  the  next  lesson,  mechanical  drawing  with  Mr. 
Lidgett  who  as  drawing-master  had  very  limited  powers 
of  punishment,  Winton  fell  suddenly  from  grace  and 


254         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

let  loose  a  live  mouse  in  the  form-room.  The  whole 
form,  shrieking  and  leaping  high,  threw  at  it  all  the 
plaster  cones,  pyramids,  and  fruit  in  high  relief — not 
to  mention  ink-pots — that  they  could  ,ay  hands  on. 
Mr.  Lidgett  reported  at  once  to  the  Head;  Winton 
owned  up  to  his  crime,  which,  venial  in  the  Upper 
Third,  pardonable  at  a  price  in  the  Lower  Fourth,  was, 
of  course,  rank  ruffianism  on  the  part  of  a  Fifth  Form 
boy;  and  so,  by  graduated  stages,  he  arrived  at  the 
Head's  study  just  before  lunch,  penitent,  perturbed, 
annoyed  with  himself  and — as  the  Head  said  to  King 
in  the  corridor  after  the  meal — more  human  than  he 
had  known  him  in  seven  years. 

*You  see,'  the  Head  drawled  on,  *Winton's  only 
fault  is  a  certain  costive  and  unaccommodating  virtue. 
So  this  comes  very  happily.' 

*I've  never  noticed  any  sign  of  it,'  said  King.  Win- 
ton  was  in  King's  House,  and  though  King  as  pro- 
consul might,  and  did,  infernally  oppress  his  own 
Province,  once  a  black  and  yellow  cap  was  in  trouble  at 
the  hands  of  the  Imperial  authority  King  fought  for 
him  to  the  very  last  steps  of  Caesar's  throne. 

*Well,  you  yourself  admitted  just  now  that  a  mouse 
was  beneath  the  occasion,'  the  Head  answered. 

*It  was.'  Mr.  King  did  not  love  Mr.  Lidgett.  'It 
should  have  been  a  rat.  But — but — I  hate  to  plead  it 
— it's  the  lad's  first  offence.' 

*  Could  you  have  damned  him  more  completely.  King  ? ' 

*Hm.  What  is  the  penalty.?'  said  King,  in  retreat, 
but  keeping  up  a  rear-guard  action. 


REGULUS  255 

*Only  my  usual  few  lines  of  Virgil  to  be  shown  up  by 
tea-time.' 

The  Head's  eyes  turned  slightly  to  that  end  of  the 
corridor  where  MuHins,  Captain  of  the  Games  (*  Pot/ 
*old  Pot,'  or  *Potiphar'  Mullins),  was  pinning  up  the 
usual  Wednesday  notice — *Big,  Middle,  and  Little 
Side  Football — A  to  K,  L  to  Z,  3  to  4.45  p.m. 

You  cannot  write  out  the  Head's  usual  few  (which 
means  five  hundred)  Latin  Hues  and  play  football  for 
one  hour  and  three-quarters  between  the  hours  of  1.30 
and  5  P.M.  Winton  had  evidently  no  intention  of  try- 
ing to  do  so,  for  he  hung  about  the  corridor  with  a  set 
face  and  an  uneasy  foot.  Yet  it  was  law  in  the  school, 
compared  with  which  that  of  the  Medes  and  Persians 
was  no  more  than  a  non-committal  resolution,  that  any 
boy,  outside  the  First  Fifteen,  who  missed  his  football 
for  any  reason  whatever,  and  had  not  a  written  excuse, 
duly  signed  by  competent  authority  to  explain  his 
absence,  would  receive  not  less  than  three  strokes  with 
a  ground-ash  from  the  Captain  of  the  Games,  generally 
a  youth  between  seventeen  and  eighteen  years,  rarely 
under  eleven  stone  (*Pot'  was  nearer  thirteen),  and 
always  in  hard  condition. 

King  knew  without  inquiry  that  the  Head  had  given 
Winton  no  such  excuse. 

*But  he  is  practically  a  member  of  the  First  Fifteen. 
He  has  played  for  it  all  this  term,'  said  King.  *I  be- 
lieve his  Cap  should  have  arrived  last  week.' 

*His  Cap  has  not  been  given  him.  Officially,  there- 
fore, he  is  naught.     I  rely  on  old  Pot/ 


256         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*But  MuUins  is  Winton's  study-mate/  King  per- 
sisted. 

Pot  Mullins  and  Pater  Winton  were  cousins  and 
rather  close  friends. 

*That  will  make  no  difference  to  Mullins — or  Winton, 
if  I  know  'em,'  said  the  Head. 

'But — but,'  King  played  his  last  card  desperately, 
*I  was  going  to  recommend  Winton  for  extra  sub-prefect 
in  my  House,  now  Carton  has  gone.' 

'Certainly,'  said  the  Head.  *Why  not?  He  will 
be  excellent  by  tea-time,  I  hope.' 

At  that  moment  they  saw  Mr.  Lidgett,  tripping  down 
the  corridor,  waylaid  by  Winton. 

'It's  about  that  mouse-business  at  mechanical 
Jrawing,'  Winton  opened,  swinging  across  his  path. 

'Yes,  yes,  highly  disgraceful,'  Mr.  Lidgett  panted. 

*I  know  it  was,'  said  Winton.  *It — it  was  a  cad's 
trick  because ' 

'Because  you  knew  I  couldn't  give  you  more  than 
fifty  lines,'  said  Mr.  Lidgett. 

'Well,  anyhow  I've  come  to  apologise  for  it.' 

'Certainly,'  said  Mr.  Lidgett,  and  added,  for  he  was  a 
kindly  man,  *I  think  that  shows  quite  right  feeling. 
I'll  tell  the  Head  at  once  I'm  satisfied.' 

'No — no!'  The  boy's  still  unmended  voice  jumped 
from  the  growl  to  the  squeak.  *I  didn't  mean  that! 
I — I  did  it  on  principle.  Please  don't — er — do  any- 
thing of  that  kind.' 

Mr.  Lidgett  looked  him  up  and  down  and,  being  an 
artist,  understood. 


REGULUS  257 

*  Thank  you,  Winton/  he  said.  'This  shall  be  be- 
tween ourselves.' 

*You  heard?'  said  King,  indecent  pride  in  his 
voice. 

*0f  course.  You  thought  he  was  going  to  get  Lidgett 
to  beg  him  ofF  the  impot.' 

King  denied  this  with  so  much  warmth  that  the  Head 
laughed  and  King  went  away  in  a  hufF. 

*By  the  way,'  said  the  Head,  'I've  told  Winton  to  do 
his  lines  in  your  form-room — not  in  his  study.' 

'Thanks,'  said  King  over  his  shoulder,  for  the  Head's 
orders  had  saved  Winton  and  Mullins,  who  was  doing 
extra  Army  work  in  the  study,  from  an  embarrassing 
afternoon  together. 

An  hour  later,  King  wandered  into  his  still  form- 
room  as  though  by  accident.  Winton  was  hard  at 
work. 

*Aha!'  said  King,  rubbing  his  hands.  'This  does  not 
look  like  games,  Winton.  Don't  let  me  arrest  your 
facile  pen.     Whence  this  sudden  love  for  Virgil?' 

'Impot  from  the  Head,  sir,  for  that  mouse-business 
this  morning.' 

'Rumours  thereof  have  reached  us.  That  was  a 
lapse  on  your  part  into  Lower  Thirdery  which  I  don't 
quite  understand.' 

The  'tump-tump'  of  the  puntabouts  before  the  sides 
settled  to  games  came  through  the  open  window.  Win- 
ton, like  his  House-Master,  loved  fresh  air.  Then  they 
heard  Paddy  Vernon,  sub-prefect  on  duty,  calling  the 
roll  in  the  field  and  marking  defaulters.     Winton  wrote 


258         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

steadily.  King  curled  himself  up  on  a  desk,  hands 
round  knees.  One  would  have  said  that  the  man  was 
gloating  over  the  boy's  misfortune,  but  the  boy  under- 
stood. 

^  Dis  te  minor  em  quod  geris  imperas,*  King  quoted 
presently.  *  It  is  necessary  to  bear  oneself  as  lower  than 
the  local  gods — even  than  drawing-masters  who  are 
precluded  from  effective  retahation.  I  do  wish  you'd 
tried  that  mouse-game  with  me,  Pater.' 

Winton  grinned;  then  sobered  *It  was  a  cad's 
trick,  sir,  to  play  on  Mr.  Lidgett/  He  peered  forward 
at  the  page  he  was  copying. 

*Well,  "the  sin  /  impute  to  each  frustrate  ghost" 

'  King  stopped  himself.     'Why  do  you  goggle  like 

an  owl?  Hand  me  the  Mantuan  and  I'll  dictate.  No 
matter.  Any  rich  Virgilian  measures  will  serve.  I 
may  peradventure  recall  a  few.'     He  began: 

*Tu  regere  imperio  populos  Romane  memento 
Hae  tibi  erunt  artes  pacisque  imponere  morem, 
Parcere  subjectis  et  debellare  superbos. 

There  you  have  it  all,  Winton.  Write  that  out  twice 
and  yet  once  again.' 

For  the  next  forty  minutes,  with  never  a  glance  at 
the  book.  King  paid  out  the  glorious  hexameters  (and 
King  could  read  Latin  as  though  it  were  alive),  Winton 
hauling  them  in  and  coiling  them  away  behind  him  as 
trimmers  in  a  telegraph-ship's  hold  coil  away  deep-sea 
cable.  King  broke  from  the  Aeneid  to  the  Georgics  and 
back  again,  pausing  now  and  then  to  translate  some 


REGULUS  259 

pecially  loved  line  or  to  dwell  on  the  treble-shot  texture 
f  the  ancient  fabric.  He  did  not  allude  to  the  coming 
iterview  with  Mullins  except  at  the  last,  when  he 
aid,  *I  think  at  this  juncture,  Pater,  I  need  not  ask 
ou  for  the  precise  significance  of  atqui  sciebat  quae  sibi 
arbarus  tortor.' 

The  ungrateful  Winton  flushed  angrily,  and  King 
oafed  out  to  take  five  o'clock  call-over,  after  which  he 
nvited  little  Hartopp  to  tea  and  a  talk  on  chlorine-gas. 
iartopp  accepted  the  challenge  like  a  bantam,  and  the 
wo  went  up  to  King's  study  about  the  same  time  as 
Vinton  returned  to  the  form-room  beneath  it  to  finish 
lis  lines. 

Then  half  a  dozen  of  the  Second  Fifteen,  who  should 
lave  been  washing,  strolled  in  to  condole  with  *  Pater' 
Vinton,  whose  misfortune  and  its  consequences  were 
ommon  talk.  No  one  was  more  sincere  than  the  long, 
ed-headed,  knotty-knuckled  *  Paddy'  Vernon,  but, 
teing  a  careless  animal,  he  joggled  Winton's  desk. 

'Curse  you  for  a  silly  ass!'  said  Winton.  'Don't  do 
hat.' 

No  one  is  expected  to  be  polite  while  under  punish- 
ment, so  Vernon,  sinking  his  sub-prefectship,  repUed 
leacefully  enough: 

'Well,  don't  be  wrathy,  Pater.* 

Tm  not,'  said  Winton.  'Get  out  I  This  ain't  your 
louse  form-room.' 

'  'Form-room  don't  belong  to  you.  Why  don't  you 
;o  to  your  own  study?'  Vernon  repHed. 

'Because  Mullins  is  there  waitin'  for  the  victim,'  said 


26o         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Stalky  delicately,  and  they  all  laughed.  'You  ought  to 
have  shaken  that  mouse  out  of  your  trouser-leg,  Pater. 
That's  the  way  /  did  in  my  youth.  Pater's  revertin'  to 
his  second  childhood.  Never  mind,  Pater,  we  all  respect 
you  and  your  future  caree-ah.' 

Winton,  still  writhing,  growled.  Vernon  leaning  on 
the  desk  somehow  shook  it  again.     Then  he  laughed 

'What  are  you  grinning  at.?'  Winton  asked. 

*I  was  only  thinkin'  of  you  being  sent  up  to  take  a 
lickin'  from  Pot.  I  swear  I  don't  think  it's  fair. 
You've  never  shirked  a  game  in  your  life,  and  you're  as 
good  as  in  the  First  Fifteen  already.  Your  Cap  ought 
to  have  been  delivered  last  week,  oughtn't  it?' 

It  was  law  in  the  school  that  no  man  could  by  any 
means  enjoy  the  privileges  and  immunities  of  the  First 
Fifteen  till  the  black  velvet  cap  with  the  gold  tassel, 
made  by  dilatory  Exeter  outfitters,  had  been  actually 
set  on  his  head.  Ages  ago,  a  large-built  and  unruly 
Second  Fifteen  had  attempted  to  change  this  law,  but 
the  prefects  of  that  age  were  still  larger,  and  the  lively 
experiment  had  never  been  repeated. 

*Will  you,'  said  Winton  very  slowly,  'kindly  mind 
your  own  damned  business,  you  cursed,  clumsy,  fat- 
headed  fooLf*' 

The  form-room  was  as  silent  as  the  empty  field  in  the 
darkness  outside.     Vernon  shifted  his  feet  uneasily. 

*Well,  /  shouldn't  like  to  take  a  lickin'  from  Pot,'  he 
said. 

'Wouldn't  you?'  Winton  asked,  as  he  paged  the 
sheets  of  lines  with  hands  that  shook. 


REGULUS  261 

*No,  I  shouldn't,'  said  Vernon,  his  freckles  growing 
nore  distinct  on  the  bridge  of  his  white  nose. 

'Well,  Fm  going  to  take  it' — Winton  moved  clear  of 
he  desk  as  he  spoke.  *  But  youvQ  going  to  take  a  lickin' 
"rom  me  first.'  Before  any  one  reaHsed  it,  he  had  flung 
limself  neighing  against  Vernon.  No  decencies  were 
)bserved  on  either  side,  and  the  rest  looked  on  amazed. 
Fhe  two  met  confusedly,  Vernon  trying  to  do  what  he 
:ould  with  his  longer  reach;  Winton,  insensible  to  blows, 
)nly  concerned  to  drive  his  enemy  into  a  corner  and 
)atter  him  to  pulp.  This  he  managed  over  against  the 
ireplace,  where  Vernon  dropped  half-stunned.  'Now 
^'m  going  to  give  you  your  lickin','  said  Winton.  *Lie 
here  till  I  get  a  ground-ash  and  I'll  cut  you  to  pieces. 
i  you  move,  I'll  chuck  you  out  of  the  window.*  He 
vound  his  hands  into  the  boy's  collar  and  waistband, 
md  had  actually  heaved  him  half  off  the  ground  before 
he  others  with  one  accord  dropped  on  his  head,  shoul- 
lers,  and  legs.  He  fought  them  crazily  in  an  awful  hiss- 
ng  silence.  Stalky's  sensitive  nose  was  rubbed  along 
he  floor;  Beetle  received  a  jolt  in  the  wind  that  sent 
lim  whistling  and  crowing  against  the  wall;  Perowne's 
brehead  was  cut,  and  Malpass  came  out  with  an  eye 
hat  explained  itself  like  a  dying  rainbow  through  a 
v^hole  week. 

*Mad!  Quite  mad!'  said  Stalky,  and  for  the  third 
ime  wriggled  back  to  Winton's  throat.  The  door 
>pened  and  King  came  in,  Hartopp's  little  figure  just 
)ehind  him.  The  mound  on  the  floor  panted  and 
leaved  but  did  not  rise,  for  Winton  still  squirmed 


262         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

vengefully.  'Only  a  little  play,  sir/  said  Perowne 
*  'Only  hit  my  head  against  a  form.'  This  was  quit( 
true. 

*0h,'  said  King.  'Dimovit  ohstantes  propinquos 
You,  I  presume,  are  the  populus  delaying  Winton's  re 
turn  to — Mullins,  eh?' 

*No,  sir,'  said  Stalky  behind  his  claret-coloured  hand 
kerchief.     *  We're  the  maerentes  amicos.' 

*Not  bad!  You  see,  some  of  it  sticks  after  all, 
King  chuckled  to  Hartopp,  and  the  two  masters  lef 
without  further  inquiries. 

The  boys  sat  still  on  the  now-passive  Winton. 

'Well,'  said  Stalky  at  last,  *of  all  the  putrid  he-asses 
Pater,  you  are  the ' 

'I'm  sorry.  I'm  awfully  sorry,'  Winton  began,  an( 
they  let  him  rise.  He  held  out  his  hand  to  the  bruisec 
and  bewildered  Vernon.  *  Sorry,  Paddy.  I — I  mus 
have  lost  my  temper.  I — I  don't  know  what's  th( 
matter  with  me.' 

'  'Fat  lot  of  good  that'll  do  my  face  at  tea,'  Vernoi 
grunted.  *Why  couldn't  you  say  there  was  something 
wrong  with  you  instead  of  lamming  out  like  a  lunatic 
Is  my  lip  pufFy?' 

'Just  a  trifle.  Look  at  my  beak!  Well,  we  got  al 
these  pretty  marks  at  footer — owin'  to  the  zeal  witl 
which  we  played  the  game,'  said  Stalky,  dusting  him 
self.  'But  d'you  think  you're  fit  to  be  let  loose  again 
Pater.?  'Sure  you  don't  want  to  kill  another  sub- 
prefect?  I  wish  /  was  Pot.  I'd  cut  your  sprightl} 
young  soul  out.' 


REGULUS  263 

'I  s'pose  I  ought  to  go  to  Pot  now/  said  Winton. 

*And  let  all  the  other  asses  see  you  lookin'  like  this! 
>Jot  much.  We'll  all  come  up  to  Number  Five  Study 
md  wash  ofFin  hot  water.  Beetle,  you  aren't  damaged. 
jo  along  and  light  the  gas-stove.' 

'There's  a  tin  of  cocoa  in  my  study  somewhere/  Pe- 
rowne  shouted  after  him.  *  Rootle  round  till  you  find  it, 
and  take  it  up.' 

Separately,  by  different  roads,  Vernon's  jersey  pulled 
half  over  his  head,  the  boys  repaired  to  Number  Five 
Study.  Little  Hartopp  and  King,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
leaned  over  the  banisters  of  King's  landing  and 
watched. 

*Ve-ry  human,'  said  little  Hartopp.  *Your  virtuous 
Winton,  having  got  himself  into  trouble,  takes  it  out  of 
my  poor  old  Paddy.  I  wonder  what  precise  lie  Paddy 
will  tell  about  his  face.' 

*But  surely  you  aren't  going  to  embarrass  him  by 
asking?'  said  King. 

*  Your  boy  won,'  said  Hartopp. 

*To  go  back  to  what  we  were  discussing,'  said  King 
quickly,  'do  you  pretend  that  your  modern  system  of 
inculcating  unrelated  facts  about  chlorine,  for  instance, 
all  of  which  may  be  proved  fallacies  by  the  time  the 
boys  grow  up,  can  have  any  real  bearing  on  education 
— even  the  low  type  of  it  that  examiners  expect?' 

*I  maintain  nothing.  But  is  it  any  worse  than  your 
Chinese  reiteration  of  uncomprehended  syllables  in  a 
dead  tongue?' 

*Dead,  forsooth!'  King  fairly  danced.     'The  only 


264         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

living  tongue  on  earth!  Chinese!  On  my  word, 
Hartopp!* 

*And  at  the  end  of  seven  years — how  often  have  I 
said  it?'  Hartopp  went  on, — 'seven  years  of  two  hun- 
dred and  twenty  days  of  six  hours  each,  your  victims 
go  away  with  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  except,  per- 
haps, if  they've  been  very  attentive,  a  dozen — no,  I'll 
grant  you  twenty — one  score  of  totally  unrelated  Latin 
tags  which  any  child  of  twelve  could  have  absorbed  in 
two  terms.' 

*But — but  can't  you  realise  that  if  our  system  brings 
later — at  any  rate — at  a  pinch — a  simple  understanding 
— grammar  and  Latinity  apart — a  mere  glimpse  of  the 
significance  (foul  word !)  of,  we'll  say,  one  Ode  of  Horace, 
one  twenty  Hnes  of  Virgil,  we've  got  what  we  poor  devils 
of  ushers  are  striving  after?' 

*And  what  might  that  be?'  said  Hartopp. 

'Balance,  proportion,  perspective — life.  Your  scien- 
tific man  is  the  unrelated  animal — the  beast  without 
background.  Haven't  you  ever  realised  that  in  your 
atmosphere  of  stinks  ? ' 

'Meantime  you  make  them  lose  life  for  the  sake  of 
living,  eh?' 

'BHnd  again,  Hartopp!  I  told  you  about  Paddy's 
quotation  this  morning.  (But  he  made  probrosis  a 
verb,  he  did!)  You  yourself  heard  young  Corkran's 
reference  to  maerentes  amicos.  It  sticks — a  little  of  it 
sticks  among  the  barbarians.' 

'Absolutely  and  essentially  Chinese,'  said  little 
Hartopp,  who,  alone  of  the  common-room,  refused  to 


REGULUS  '  265 

)e  outfaced  by  King.  *But  I  don*t  yet  understand 
low  Paddy  came  to  be  licked  by  Winton.  Paddy's 
upposed  to  be  something  of  a  boxer.' 

*  Beware  of  vinegar  made  from  honey/  King  replied. 
Pater,  like  some  other  people,  is  patient  and  long- 
;uflFering,  but  he  has  his  limits.  The  Head  is  oppressing 
lim  damnably,  too.  As  I  pointed  out,  the  boy  has 
Dractically  been  in  the  First  Fifteen  since  term  began.' 

*But,  my  dear  fellow,  I've  known  you  give  a  boy  an 
mpot  and  refuse  him  leave  off  games,  again  and  again.' 

*Ah,  but  that  was  when  there  was  real  need  to  get  at 
5ome  oaf  who  couldn't  be  sensitised  in  any  other  way. 
S^ow,  in  our  esteemed  Head's  action  I  see  nothing 

3Ut ' 

The  conversation  from  this  point  does  not  concern  us. 

Meantime  Winton,  very  penitent  and  especially  po- 
lite towards  Vernon,  was  being  cheered  with  cocoa  in 
Number  Five  Study.  They  had  some  difficulty  in 
stemming  the  flood  of  his  apologies.  He  himself  pointed 
3ut  to  Vernon  that  he  had  attacked  a  sub-prefect  for  no 
reason  whatever,  and,  therefore,  deserved  official  pun- 
ishment. 

'I  can't  think  what  was  the  matter  with  me  to- 
day,' he  mourned.  'Ever  since  that  blasted  mouse- 
business ' 

*Well,  then,  don't  think,'  said  Stalky.  *0r  do  you 
ivant  Paddy  to  make  a  row  about  it  before  all  the 
school?' 

Here  Vernon  was  understood  to  say  that  he  would 
see  Winton  and  all  the  school  somewhere  else. 


266         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*And  if  you  imagine  Perowne  and  Malpass  and  mc 
are  goin*  to  give  evidence  at  a  prefects'  meeting  jusi 
to  soothe  your  beastly  conscience,  you  jolly  well  err, 
said  Beetle.     *I  know  what  you  did/ 

'What?'  croaked  Pater,  out  of  the  valley  of  hii 
humiliation. 

*  You  went  Berserk.     Tve  read  all  about  itin  Hypatia. 
'What's  "going  Berserk"?'     Winton  asked. 
'Never  you  mind,'  was  the  reply.     *Now,  don't  yoi 

feel  awfully  weak  and  seedy  ? ' 

*I  am  rather  tired,'  said  Winton,  sighing. 
'That's  what  you  ought  to  be.  You've  gone  Berseri 
and  pretty  soon  you'll  go  to  sleep.  But  you'll  probably 
be  liable  to  fits  of  it  all  your  life,'  Beetle  concluded 
*  'Shouldn't  wonder  if  you  murdered  some  one  somt 
day.' 

*  Shut  up — you  and  your  Berserks ! '  said  Stalky.  *  Gc 
to  MuUins  now  and  get  it  over.  Pater.' 

*I  call  it  filthy  unjust  of  the  Head,'  said  Vernon 
'Anyhow,  you've  given  me  my  lickin',  old  man.  1 
hope  Pot '11  give  you  yours.' 

'I'm  awfully  sorry — awfully  sorry,'  was  Winton's  last 
word. 

It  .was  the  custom  in  that  consulship  to  deal  with 
games'  defaulters  between  five  o'clock  call-over  and  tea. 
MuUins,  who  was  old  enough  to  pity,  did  not  believe  in 
letting  boys  wait  through  the  night  till  the  chill  of  the 
next  morning  for  their  punishments.  He  was  finishing 
off  the  last  of  the  small  fry  and  their  excuses  when 
Winton  arrived. 


REGULUS  267 

*But,  please,  Mullins' — this  was  Babcock  tertius,  a 
iear  little  twelve-year-old  mother's  darling — *I  had  an 
awful  hack  on  the  knee.  I've  been  to  the  Matron 
about  it  and  she  gave  me  some  iodine.  Fve  been  rub- 
bing it  in  all  day.  I  thought  that  would  be  an  excuse 
ofF/ 

'Let's  have  a  look  at  it/  said  the  impassive  Mullins. 
'That's  a  shin-bruise — about  a  week  old.  Touch  your 
toes.     I'll  give  you  the  iodine.' 

Babcock  yelled  loudly  as  he  had  many  times  before. 
The  face  of  Jevons,  aged  eleven,  a  new  boy  that  dark 
wet  term,  low  in  the  House,  low  in  the  Lower  School, 
and  lowest  of  all  in  his  home-sick  little  mind  turned 
white  at  the  horror  of  the  sight.  They  could  hear  his 
working  lips  part  stickily  as  Babcock  wailed  his  way 
out  of  hearing. 

'Hullo,  Jevons!  What  brings  you  here?'  said 
Mullins. 

'Pl-ease,  sir,  I  went  for  a  walk  with  Babcock  tertius.' 

*  Did  you  ?  Then  I  bet  you  went  to  the  tuck-shop — 
and  you  paid,  didn't  you?' 

A  nod.     Jevons  was  too  terrified  to  speak. 

*0f  course,  and  I  bet  Babcock  told  you  that  old  Pot 
'ud  let  you  ofF  because  it  was  the  first  time.' 

Another  nod  with  a  ghost  of  a  smile  in  it. 

'All  right.'  Mullins  picked  Jevons  up  before  he 
could  guess  what  was  coming,  laid  him  on  the  table 
with  one  hand,  with  the  other  gave  him  three  emphatic 
spanks,  then  held  him  high  in  air. 

'Now  you  tell  Babcock  tertius  that  he's  got  you  a 


268         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

licking  from  me,  and  see  you  jolly  well  pay  it  back  to 
him.  And  when  you're  prefect  of  games  don't  you  let 
any  one  shirk  his  footer  without  a  written  excuse. 
Where  d'you  play  in  your  game?' 

'Forward,  sir.' 

*  You  can  do  better  than  that.  I've  seen  you  run  like 
a  young  buck-rabbit.  Ask  Dickson  from  me  to  try 
you  as  three-quarter  next  game,  will  you?  Cut 
along.' 

Jevons  left,  warm  for  the  first  time  that  day,  enor- 
mously set  up  in  his  own  esteem,  and  very  hot  against 
the  deceitful  Babcock. 

Mullins  turned  to  Winton.  'Your  name's  on  the 
list.  Pater.'     Winton  nodded. 

*I  know  it.  The  Head  landed  me  with  an  impot  for 
that  mouse-business  at  mechanical  drawing.  No  ex- 
cuse.' 

*He  meant  it  then  ?'  Mullins  jerked  his  head  delicately 
towards  the  ground-ash  on  the  table.  *I  heard  some- 
thing about  it.' 

Winton  nodded.  'A  rotten  thing  to  do,'  he  said. 
'Can't  think  what  I  was  doing  ever  to  do  it.  It  counts 
against  a  fellow  so;  and  there's  some  more  too ' 

'All  right.  Pater.  Just  stand  clear  of  our  photo- 
bracket,  will  you  ? ' 

The  little  formality  over,  there  was  a  pause.  Winton 
swung  round,  yawned  in  Pot's  astonished  face  and  stag- 
gered towards  the  window-seat. 

'What's  the  matter  with  you,  Dick?     111?' 

'No.     Perfectly    all    right,    thanks.     Only — only    a 


i^» 

•'j^- 


REGULUS  269 

little  sleepy.'  Winton  stretched  himself  out,  and  then 
and  there  fell  deeply  and  placidly  asleep. 

*It  isn't  a  faint,'  said  the  experienced  Mullins,  'or 
his  pulse  wouldn't  act.  'Tisn't  a  fit  or  he'd  snort  and 
twitch.  It  can't  be  sunstroke,  this  term,  and  he  hasn't 
been  over-training  for  anything.'  He  opened  Winton's 
collar,  packed  a  cushion  under  his  head,  threw  a  rug 
over  him  and  sat  down  to  listen  to  the  regular  breathing. 
Before  long  Stalky  arrived,  on  pretence  of  borrowing  a 
book.     He  looked  at  the  window-seat. 

* 'Noticed  anjrthing  wrong  with  Winton  lately?'  said 
Mullins. 

''Notice  anything  wrong  with  my  beak?'  Stalky  re- 
plied. *  Pater  went  Berserk  after  call-over,  and  fell  on  a 
lot  of  us  for  jesting  with  him  about  his  impot.  You 
ought  to  see  Malpass's  eye.' 

*You  mean  that  Pater  fought?'  said  Mullins. 

'Like  a  devil.  Then  he  nearly  went  to  sleep  in  our 
study  just  now.  I  expect  he'll  be  all  right  when  he 
wakes  up.  Rummy  business!  Conscientious  old  bar- 
gee.    You  ought  to  have  heard  his  apologies.' 

*  But  Pater  can't  fight  one  Httle  bit,'  Mullins  repeated, 
"Twasn't  fighting.     He  just  tried  to  murder  every 

one.'  Stalky  described  the  affair,  and  when  he  left 
Mullins  went  off  to  take  counsel  with  the  Head,  who, 
out  of  a  cloud  of  blue  smoke,  told  him  that  all  would 
yet  be  well. 

*  Winton,'  said  he,  *is  a  little  stiff  in  his  moral  joints. 
He'll  get  over  that.  If  he  asks  you  whether  to-day's 
doings  will  count  against  him  in  his ' 


270         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  But  you  know  it's  important  to  him,  sir.  His  people 
aren't — very  well  off,'  said  Mullins. 

'That's  why  I'm  taking  all  this  trouble.  You  must 
reassure  him,  Pot.  I  have  overcrowded  him  with  new 
experiences.     Oh,  by  the  way,  has  his  Cap  come?' 

*It  came  at  dinner,  sir.'     Mullins  laughed. 

Sure  enough,  when  he  waked  at  tea-time,  Winton 
proposed  to  take  Mullins  all  through  every  one  of  his 
day's  lapses  from  grace,  and  *Do  you  think  it  will  count 
against  meV  said  he. 

*  Don't  you  fuss  so  much  about  yourself  and  your 
silly  career,'  said  Mullins.  'You're  all  right.  And  oh 
— here's  your  First  Cap  at  last.  Shove  it  up  on  the 
bracket  and  come  on  to  tea.' 

They  met  King  on  their  way,  stepping  statelily  and 
rubbing  his  hands.  'I  have  applied,'  said  he,  *for  the 
services  of  an  additional  sub-prefect  in  Carton's  un- 
lamented  absence.  Your  name,  Winton,  seems  to  have 
found  favour  with  the  powers  that  be,  and — and  all 
things  considered — I  am  disposed  to  give  my  support 
to  the  nomination.     You  are  therefore  a  quasi-lictor.' 

*Then  it  didn't  count  against  me,'  Winton  gasped  as 
soon  as  they  were  out  of  hearing. 

A  Captain  of  Games  can  jest  with  a  sub-prefect 
publicly. 

*You  utter  ass!'  said  Mullins,  and  caught  him  by  the 
back  of  his  stiff  neck  and  ran  him  down  to  the  hall  where 
the  sub-prefects,  who  sit  below  the  salt,  made  him  wel- 
come with  the  economical  bloater-paste  of  mid-term. 


REGULUS  271 

King  and  little  Hartopp  were  sparring  in  the  Rever- 
end John  Gillett's  study  at  10  p.m. — classical  versus 
modern  as  usual. 

*  Character — proportion — background/  snarled  King. 
That  is  the  essence  of  the  Humanities.' 

'Analects  of  Confucius,'  little  Hartopp  answered. 

*Time,'  said  the  Reverend  John  behind  the  soda- 
water.  *You  men  oppress  me.  Hartopp,  what  did 
you  say  to  Paddy  in  your  dormitories  to-night.^  Even 
you  couldn't  have  overlooked  his  face.' 

*But  I  did,'  said  Hartopp  calmly.  *I  wasn't  even 
humorous  about  it  as  some  clerics  might  have  been. 
I  went  straight  through  and  said  naught.' 

*Poor  Paddy!  Now,  for  my  part,'  said  King,  *and 
you  know  I  am  not  lavish  in  my  praises,  I  consider 
Winton  a  first-class  type;  absolutely  first-class.' 

*Ha-ardly,'  said  the  Reverend  John.  'First-class 
of  the  second  class,  I  admit.  The  very  best  type  of 
second  class  but' — he  shook  his  head — *it  should  have 
been  a  rat.  Pater'U  never  be  anything  more  than  a 
Colonel  of  Engineers.' 

'What  do  you  base  that  verdict  on?'  said  King  stiffly. 

*  He  came  to  me  after  prayers — ^withall  his  conscience.' 
'Poor  old   Pater.     Was   it   the   mouse?'   said   little 

Hartopp. 

'That,  and  what  he  called  his  uncontrollable  temper, 
and  his  responsibilities  as  sub-prefect.' 

'And  you?' 

'If  we  had  had  what  is  vulgarly  called  a  pi-jaw  he'd 
have   had   hysterics.     So   I    recommended    a  dose  of 


272         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Epsom  salts.  He'll  take  it,  too — conscientiously. 
Don't  eat  me,  King.     Perhaps,  he'll  be  a  K.C.B.' 

Ten  o'clock  struck  and  the  Army  class  boys  in  the 
further  studies  coming  to  their  houses  after  an  hour's 
extra  work  passed  along  the  gravel  path  below.  Some 
one  was  chanting,  to  the  tune  of  *  White  sand  and  grey 
sand,'  Dis  te  minor  em  quod  geris  imperas.  He  stopped 
outside  Mullins'  study.  They  heard  Mullins'  window 
slide  up  and  then  Stalky's  voice: 

*Ah!  Good-evening,  Mullins,  my  harharus  tortor. 
We're  the  waits.  We  have  come  to  inquire  after  the 
local  Berserk.  Is  he  doin'  as  well  as  can  be  expected  in 
his  new  caree-ah  ^ ' 

*  Better  than  you  will,  in  a  sec,  Stalky,'  Mullins 
grunted. 

"Glad  of  that.  We  thought  he'd  like  to  know  that 
Paddy  has  been  carried  to  the  sick-house  in  ravin' 
delirium.     They  think  it's  concussion  of  the  brain.' 

*Why,  he  was  all  right  at  prayers,'  Winton  began 
earnestly,  and  they  heard  a  laugh  in  the  background  as 
Mullins  slammed  down  the  window. 

*  'Night,  Regulus,'  Stalky  sang  out,  and  the  light 
footsteps  went  on. 

*  You  see.  It  sticks.  A  little  of  it  sticks  among  the 
barbarians,'  said  King. 

'Amen,'  said  the  Reverend  John.     *Go  to  bed.' 


A  TRANSLATION 
Horace,  Bk.  V.  Ode  3 


There  are  whose  study  is  of  smells, 
And  to  attentive  schools  rehearse 

How  something  mixed  with  something  else 
Makes  something  worse. 


Some  cultivate  in  broths  impure 
The  clients  of  our  body — these. 

Increasing  without  Venus,  cure, 
Or  cause,  disease. 


Others  the  heated  wheel  extol, 

And  all  its  offspring,  whose  concern 

Is  how  to  make  it  farthest  roll 
And  fastest  turn. 


Me,  much  incurious  if  the  hour 
Present,  or  to  be  paid  for,  brings 

Me  to  Brundusium  by  the  power 
Of  wheels  or  wings; 

273 


274         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Me,  in  whose  breast  no  flame  hath  burned 
Life-long,  save  that  by  Pindar  lit, 

Such  lore  leaves  cold:  I  am  not  turned 
Aside  to  it 

More  than  when,  sunk  in  thought  profound 
Of  what  the  unaltering  Gods  require, 

My  steward  (friend  but  slave)  brings  round 
Logs  for  my  fire. 


The  Edge  of  the  Evening 

(1913) 

Ah!    What  avails  the  classic  bent, 

And  what  the  chosen  word, 
Against  the  undoctored  incident 

That  actually  occurred? 

And  what  is  Art  whereto  we  press 
Through  paint  and  prose  and  rhyme — 

When  Nature  in  her  nakedness 
Defeats  us  every  time? 

Hi!  Hi!  Hold  your  horses!  Stop!  .  .  .  Well! 
NdlV  A  lean  man  in  a  sable-lined  overcoat  leaped 
"rom  a  private  car  and  barred  my  way  up  Pall  Mall. 
You  d,on*t  know  me?  You're  excusable.  I  wasn^t 
vearing  much  of  anything  last  time  we  met — in  South 
\frica.' 

The  scales  fell  from  my  eyes,  and  I  saw  him  once  more 
n  a  sky-blue  army  shirt,  behind  barbed  wire,  among 
Dutch  prisoners  bathing  at  Simonstown,  more  than  a 
dozen  years  ago.^  *Why,  it's  Zigler — Laughton  O. 
Zigler!'  I  cried.     *Well,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.' 

'Oh  no!  You  don't  work  any  of  your  EngHsh  on 
me.  "So  glad  to  see  you,  doncher  know — an'  ta-ta!" 
Do  you  reside  in  this  village?' 

*  *The  Captive* :  Traffics  and  Discoveries* 

^7S 


276         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*No.     Fm  up  here  buying  stores.' 

'Then  you  take  my  automobile.  Where  to?  . 
Oh,  I  know  them  I  My  Lord  Marshal  ton  is  one  of  th 
Directors.  Pigott,  drive  to  the  Army  and  Navy  Cc 
operative  Supply  Association  Limited,  Victoria  Street 
Westminister.'  , 

He  settled  himself  on  the  deep  dove-colour  pneumati^l 
cushions,  and  his  smile  was  like  the  turning  on  of  all  th( 
electrics.  His  teeth  were  whiter  than  the  ivory  fittings 
He  smelt  of  rare  soap  and  cigarettes — such  cigarette; 
as  he  handed  me  from  a  golden  box  with  an  automatic 
lighter.  On  my  side  of  the  car  was  a  gold-mountec 
mirror,  card  and  toilette  case.  I  looked  at  him  in- 
quiringly. 

*Yes,'  he  nodded,  *two  years  after  I  quit  the  Cape. 
She's  not  an  Ohio  girl,  though.  She's  in  the  country; 
now.  Is  that  right?  She's  at  our  little  place  in  the 
country.  We'll  go  there  as  soon  as  you're  through  with 
your  grocery-list.  Engagements?  The  only  engage- 
ment you've  got  is  to  grab  your  grip — get  your  bag  from 
your  hotel,  I  mean — and  come  right  along  and  meet 
her.     You  are  the  captive  of  my  bow  and  spear  now.' 

*I  surrender,'  I  said  meekly.  'Did  the  Zigler  auto- 
matic gun  do  all  this?'     I  pointed  to  the  car  fittings. 

*Psha!  Think  of  your  rememberin'  that!  Well,  no. 
The  Zigler  is  a  great  gun — ^the  greatest  ever — but  life's 
too  short,  an'  too  interestin',  to  squander  on  pushing 
her  in  military  society.  I've  leased  my  rights  in  her  to  a 
Pennsylvanian-Transylvanian  citizen  full  of  mentalit}) 
and    moral    upHft.     If  those   things  weigh  with  the 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING         277 

hancelleries  of  Europe,  he  will  make  good  and — I  shall 
J  surprised.     Excuse  me!' 

He  bared  his  head  as  we  passed  the  statue  of  the 
reat  Queen  outside  Buckingham  Palace. 

*A  very  great  lady!'  said  he.  *I  have  enjoyed  her 
Dspitality.  She  represents  one  of  the  most  wonderful 
stitutions  in  the  world.  The  next  is  the  one  we  are 
)ing  to.  Mrs.  Zigler  uses  'em,  and  they  break  her  up 
^ery  week  on  returned  empties.' 

*0h,  you  mean  the  Stores?'  I  said. 

'Mrs.  Zigler  means  it  more.  They  are  quite  ambas- 
idorial  in  their  outlook.  I  guess  I'll  wait  outside  and 
ray  while  you  wrestle  with  'em.' 

My  business  at  the  Stores  finished,  and  my  bag 
;trieved  from  the  hotel,  his  moving  palace  slid  us 
ito  the  country. 

*I  owe  it  to  you,'  Zigler  began  as  smoothly  as  the  car, 

0  tell  you  what  I  am  now.  I  represent  the  business 
id  of  the  American  Invasion.  Not  the  blame  cars 
lemselves — I  wouldn't  be  found  dead  in  one — but  the 
)ols  that  make  'em.     I  am  the  Zigler  Higher-Speed 

001  and  Lathe  Trust.  The  Trust,  sir,  is  entirely  my 
Nn — in  my  own  inventions.  I  am  the  Renzalaer  ten- 
/^linder  aerial — the  Hghtest  aeroplane-engine  on  the 
larket — one  price,  one  power,  one  guarantee.  I  am 
le  Orlebar  Paper-welt,  Pulp-panel  Company  for 
jroplane  bodies;  and  I  am  the  Rush  Silencer  for  mili- 
iry  aeroplanes — absolutely  silent — ^which  the  Conti- 
mt  leases  under  royalty.  With  three  exceptions,  the 
ritish  aren't  wise  to  it  yet.     That's  all  I  represent  at 


278         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

present.  You  saw  me  take  oflF  my  hat  to  your  lat< 
Queen?  I  owe  every  cent  I  have  to  that  great  an'  gooc 
Lady.  Yes,  sir,  I  came  out  of  Africa,  after  my  eighteer 
months'  rest-cure  and  open-air  treatment  and  sea- 
bathing, as  her  prisoner  of  war,  like  a  giant  refreshed 
There  wasn't  anything  could  hold  me,  when  Fd  goi 
my  hooks  into  it,  after  that  experience.  And  to  you  aj 
a  representative  British  citizen,  I  say  here  and  now  thai 
I  regard  you  as  the  founder  of  the  family  fortune- 
Tommy's  and  mine.' 

*  But  I  only  gave  you  some  papers  and  tobacco.' 

*What  more  does  any  citizen  need?  The  Cullinar 
diamond  wouldn't  have  helped  me  as  much  then;  an'— 
talking  about  South  Africa,  tell  me * 

We  talked  about  South  Africa  till  the  car  stopped  ai 
the  Georgian  lodge  of  a  great  park. 

'We'll  get  out  here.  I  want  to  show  you  a  rathe] 
sightly  view,'  said  Zigler. 

We  walked,  perhaps,  half  a  mile,  across  timber-dottec 
turf,  past  a  lake,  entered  a  dark  rhododendron-plantec 
wood,  ticking  with  the  noise  of  pheasants'  feet,  anc 
came  out  suddenly,  where  five  rides  met,  at  a  smal 
classic  temple  between  lichened  stucco  statues  whicl 
faced  a  circle  of  turf,  several  acres  in  extent.  Irisl 
yews,  of  a  size  that  I  had  never  seen  before,  walled  th( 
sunless  circle  like  cliffs  of  riven  obsidian,  except  at  th( 
lower  end,  where  it  gave  on  to  a  stretch  of  undulating 
bare  ground  ending  in  a  timbered  slope  half-a-mile  away 

'That's  where  the  old  Marshal  ton  race-course  usee 
to  be,'  said  Zigler.     *That  ice-house  is  called  Flora'j 


b€.^ 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING         279 

emple.  Nell  Gwynne  and  Mrs.  Siddons  an'  Taglioni 
n'  all  that  crowd  used  to  act  plays  here  for  King  George 
le  Third.     Wasn't  it?     Well,  George  is  the  only  king 

play.  Let  it  go  at  that.  This  circle  was  the  stage,  I 
uess.     The  kings  an'  the  nobility  sat  in  Flora's  Temple. 

forget  who  sculped  these  statues  at  the  door.  They're 
le  Comic  and  Tragic  Muse.  But  it's  a  sightly  view, 
in'tit?' 

The  sunlight  was  leaving  the  park.  I  caught  a  glint 
if  silver  to  the  southward  beyond  the  wooded  ridge. 

'That's  the  ocean — the  Channel,  I  mean,'  said  Zigler. 
It's  twenty-three  miles  as  a  man  flies.  A  sightly  view, 
lin'tit?' 

I  looked  at  the  severe  yews,  the  dumb  yelling  mouths 
»f  the  two  statues,  at  the  blue-green  shadows  on  the 
msunned  grass,  and  at  the  still  bright  plain  in  front 
vhere  some  deer  were  feeding. 

*It's  a  most  dramatic  contrast,  but  I  think  it  would 
)e  better  on  a  summer's  day,'  I  said,  and  we  went  on, 
ip  one  of  the  noiseless  rides,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  at  least, 
ill  we  came  to  the  porticoed  front  of  an  enormous  Geor- 
;ian  pile.  Four  footmen  revealed  themselves  in  a  hall 
lung  with  pictures. 

*I  hired  this  off  of  my  Lord  Marshalton,'  Zigler  ex- 
>lained,  while  they  helped  us  out  of  our  coats  under  the 
evere  eyes  of  ruffed  and  periwigged  ancestors.  *  Ya-as. 
rhey  always  look  at  me  too,  as  if  I'd  blown  in  from  the 
;utter.  Which,  of  course,  I  have.  That's  Mary,  Lady 
vlarshalton.  Old  man  Joshua  painted  her.  Do  you 
ee  any  likeness  to  my  Lord  Marshalton .?    Why,  haven't 


280         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

you  ever  met  up  with  him?  He  was  Captain  Mankel 
tow — my  Royal  British  Artillery  captain  that  blew  uj 
my  gun  in  the  war,  an'  then  tried  to  bury  me  against  mj 
religious  principles.^  Ya-as.  His  father  died  and  ht 
got  the  lordship.  That  was  about  all  he  got  by  th( 
time  that  your  British  death-duties  were  through  with 
him.  So  he  said  Vd  oblige  him  by  hiring  his  ranch. 
It's  a  hell  an'  a  half  of  a  proposition  to  handle, 
but  Tommy — Mrs.  Laughton — understands  it.  Come 
right  in  to  the  parlour  and  be  very  welcome.' 

He  guided  me,  hand  on  shoulder,  into  a  babble  oi 
high-pitched  talk  and  laughter  that  filled  a  vast  draw- 
ing-room. He  introduced  me  as  the  founder  of  the 
family  fortunes  to  a  little,  lithe,  dark-eyed  woman 
whose  speech  and  greeting  were  of  the  soft-lipped 
South.  She  in  turn  presented  me  to  her  mother,  a 
black-browed  snowy-haired  old  lady  with  a  cap  ol 
priceless  Venetian  point,  hands  that  must  have  held 
many  hearts  in  their  time,  and  a  dignity  as  unquestioned 
and  unquestioning  as  an  empress.  She  was,  indeed,  a 
Burton  of  Savannah,  who,  on  their  own  ground,  out- 
rank the  Lees  of  Virginia.  The  rest  of  the  company 
came  from  Buffalo,  Cincinnati,  Cleveland  and  Chicago, 
with  here  and  there  a  softening  southern  strain.  A 
party  of  young  folk  popped  corn  beneath  a  mantelpiece 
surmounted  by  a  Gainsborough.  Two  portly  men,  hall 
hidden  by  a  cased  harp,  discussed,  over  sheaves  of  type- 
written documents,  the  terms  of  some  contract.  A 
knot  of  matrons  talked  servants — Irish  versus  Germar 

**The  Captive':  Traffics  and  Discoveries. 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING         281 

—across  the  grand  piano.  A  youth  ravaged  an  old 
)ookcase,  while  beside  him  a  tall  girl  stared  at  the 
)ortrait  of  a  woman  of  many  loves,  dead  three  hundred 
'^ears,  but  now  leaping  to  life  and  warning  under  the 
haded  frame-light.  In  a  corner  half-a-dozen  girls 
:xamined  the  glazed  tables  that  held  the  decorations — 

nglish  and  foreigi  —of  the  late  Lord  Marshalton. 

*  See  heah !  Would  this  be  the  Ordeh  of  the  Gy  artah  ? ' 
)ne  said,  pointing. 

*I  presoom  likely.  No!  The  Garter  has  "Honey 
wore" — I  know  that  much.  This  is  "Tria  juncta'* 
omething.' 

*0h,  what's  that  cunning  little  copper  cross  with  "  For 
/alurr"?'  a  third  cried. 

*Say!  Look  at  here!'  said  the  young  man  at  the 
i)ookcase.  'Here's  a  first  edition  of  Hundley  Cross 
and  a  Beewick's  Birds  right  next  to  it — ^just  like  so 
many  best  sellers.     Look,  Maidie!' 

The  girl  beneath  the  picture  half  turned  her  body  but 
lot  her  eyes. 

'You  don't  tell  me  I'  she  said  slowly.  'Their  women 
amounted  to  something  after  all.' 

*But  Woman's  scope,  and  outlook  was  vurry  lim- 
mutted  in  those  days,'  one  of  the  matrons  put  in,  from 
the  piano. 

'Limmutted?  For  her?  If  they  whurr,  I  guess  she 
W2is  the  limmut.  Who  was  she?  Peters,  whurr's  the 
cat'log?' 

A  thin  butler,  in  charge  of  two  footmen  removing  the 
tea-batteries,  slid  to  a  table  and  handed  her  a  blue-and- 


282         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

gilt  book.  He  was  button-holed  by  one  of  the  mer 
behind  the  harp,  who  wished  to  get  a  telephone  cal 
through  to  Edinburgh. 

*The  local  office  shuts  at  six/  said  Peters.  *But  ] 
can  get  through  to' — he  named  some  town — 'in  tei 
minutes,  sir.' 

*That  suits  me.  You'll  find  m  here  when  you'v< 
hitched  up.  Oh,  say,  Peters!  We — Mister  Olpheit! 
an'  me — ain't  goin'  by  that  early  morning  train  to 
morrow — but  the  other  one — on  the  other  line — what 
ever  they  call  it.' 

*The  nine  twenty-seven,  sir.  Yes,  sir.  Early  break 
fast  will  be  at  half-past  eight  and  the  car  will  be  at  th( 
door  at  nine.' 

*  Peters!'  an  imperious  young  voice  called.  'What': 
the  matteh  with  Lord  Marshalton's  Ordeh  of  th( 
Gyartah?     We  cyan't  find  it  anyweah.' 

*Well,  miss,  I  have  heard  that  that  Order  is  usually 
returned  to  His  Majesty  on  the  death  of  the  holder 
Yes,  miss.'  Then  in  a  whisper  to  a  footman,  *Mor( 
butter  for  the  pop-corn  in  King  Charles's  Corner.'  H( 
stopped  behind  my  chair.  *Your  room  is  Numbe] 
Eleven,  sir.     May  I  trouble  you  for  your  keys?' 

He  left  the  room  with  a  six-year-old  maiden  callec 
Alice  who  had  announced  she  would  not  go  to  bed  *  'lesi 
Peter,  Peter,  Punkin-eater  takes  me — so  there!* 

He  very  kindly  looked  in  on  me  for  a  moment  as  ] 
was  dressing  for  dinner.  'Not  at  all,  sir,'  he  repHec 
to  some  compliment  I  paid  him.  'I  valeted  the  lat( 
Lord    Marshalton    for    fifteen    years.     He   was    verj 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING         283 

abrupt  in  his  movements,  sir.  As  a  rule  I  never  re- 
ceived more  than  an  hour's  notice  of  a  journey.  We 
used  to  go  to  Syria  frequently.  I  have  been  twice  to 
Babylon.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Zigler's  requirements  are,  com- 
paratively speaking,  few.' 
'  But  the  guests  ? ' 

*  Very  little  out  of  the  ordinary  as  soon  as  one  knows 
their  ordinaries.     Extremely  simple,  if  I  may  say  so,  sir.' 

I  had  the  privilege  of  taking  Mrs.  Burton  in  to  dinner, 
and  was  rewarded  with  an  entirely  new,  and  to  me 
rather  shocking  view,  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  who,  she 
said,  had  wasted  the  heritage  of  his  land  by  blood  and 
fire,  and  had  surrendered  the  remnant  to  aliens.  *My 
brother,  suh,'  she  said,  'fell  at  Gettysburg  in  order  that 
Armenians  should  colonise  New  England  to-day.  If  I 
took  any  interest  in  any  dam-Yankee  outside  of  my 
son-in-law  Laughton  yondah,  I  should  say  that  my 
brother's  death  had  been  amply  avenged.' 

The  man  at  her  right  took  up  the  challenge,  and  the 
war  spread.  Her  eyes  twinkled  over  the  flames  she 
had  lit. 

*  Don't  these  folk,'  she  said  a  little  later,  'remind  you 
of  Arabs  picnicking  under  the  Pyramids?' 

'I've  never  seen  the  Pyramids,'  I  replied. 

*Hml  I  didn't  know  you  were  as  English  as  all  that.' 
And  when  I  laughed,  'Are  you?' 

'Always.     It  saves  trouble.' 

*Now  that's  just  what  I  find  so  significant  among  the 
English' — this  was  Alice's  mother,  I  think,  with  one 
elbow  well  forward  among  the  salted  almonds.     *0h,  I 


284         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

know  how  you  feel,  Madam  Burton,  but  a  Northerner 
like  myself — Fm  Buffalo — even  though  we  come  over 
every  year — notices  the  desire  for  comfort  in  England. 
There's  so  little  conflict  or  uplift  in  British  society/ 

*But  we  like  being  comfortable,'  I  said. 

*I  know  it.  It's  very  characteristic.  But  ain't  it  a 
little,  just  a  little,  lacking  in  adaptabiHty  an'  imagina- 
tion?' 

*They  haven't  any  need  for  adaptability,'  Madam 
Burton  struck  in.  'They  haven't  any  Ellis  Island 
standards  to  live  up  to.' 

'But  we  can  assimilate,'  the  Buffalo  woman  charged 
on. 

*Now  you  have  done  it!'  I  whispered  to  the  old  lady 
as  the  blessed  word  'assimilation'  woke  up  all  the  old 
arguments  for  and  against. 

There  was  not  a  dull  moment  in  that  dinner  for  me — 
nor  afterwards  when  the  boys  and  girls  at  the  piano 
played  the  rag-time  tunes  of  their  own  land,  while  their 
elders,  inexhaustibly  interested,  replunged  into  the 
discussion  of  that  land's  future,  till  there  was  talk  of 
coon-can.  When  all  the  company  had  been  set  to 
tables  Zigler  led  me  into  his  book-lined  study,  where  I 
noticed  he  kept  his  golf-clubs,  and  spoke  simply  as  a 
child,  gravely  as  a  bishop,  of  the  years  that  were  past 
since  our  last  meeting.     ,     .     . 

'That's  about  all,  I  guess — up  to  date,'  he  said  when 
he  had  unrolled  the  bright  map  of  his  fortunes  across 
three  continents.  'Bein'  rich  suits  me.  So  does  your 
country,  sir.     My  own  country?     You  heard  what  that 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING         285 

Detroit  man  said  at  dinner.  "A  Government  of  the 
alien,  by  the  alien,  for  the  alien."  Mother's  right,  too. 
Lincoln  killed  us.  From  the  highest  motives — but  he 
killed  us.  Oh,  say,  that  reminds  me.  'J*ever  kill  a 
man  from  the  highest  motives?' 

*Not  from  any  motive — as  far  as  I  remember.' 

'Well,  I  have.  It  don't  weigh  on  my  mind  any,  but 
it  was  interesting.  Life  is  interesting  for  a  rich — for 
any — man  in  England.  Ya-as!  Life  in  England  is 
like  settin'  in  the  front  row  at  the  theatre  and  never 
knowin'  when  the  whole  blame  drama  won't  spill  itself 
into  your  lap.  I  didn't  always  know  that.  I  lie  abed 
now,  and  I  blush  to  think  of  some  of  the  breaks  I  made 
in  South  Africa.  About  the  British.  Not  your  official 
method  of  doin'  business.  But  the  Spirit.  I  was  'way, 
'way  off  on  the  Spirit.  Are  you  acquainted  with  any 
other  country  where  you'd  have  to  kill  a  man  or  two  to 
get  at  the  National  Spirit  ? ' 

*Well,'  I  answered,  'next  to  marrying  one  of  its 
women,  killing  one  of  its  men  makes  for  pretty  close 
intimacy  with  any  country.  I  take  it  you  killed  a 
British  citizen.' 

'Why,  no.  Our  syndicate  confined  its  operations  to 
aliens — dam-fool  aliens.  .  .  .  'J'ever  know  an  Eng- 
Hsh  lord  called  Lundie^?  Looks  like  a  frame-food  and 
soap  advertisement.  I  imagine  he  was  in  your  Supreme 
Court  before  he  came  into  his  lordship.* 

*He  is  a  lawyer — ^what  we  call  a  Law  Lord — a  Judge 
of  Appeal — not  a  real  hereditary  lord.' 

*  'The  Puzzler':  Actions  and  Reactions, 


286         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'That's  as  much  beyond  me  as  this!'  Zigler  slapped 
a  fat  Debrett  on  the  table.  '  But  I  presoom  this  unreal 
Law  Lord  Lundie  is  kind  o'  real  in  his  decisions?  I 
judged  so.  And — one  more  question.  'Ever  meet  a 
man  called  Walen.?' 

*D'you  mean  Burton-Walen,  the  editor  of ?'  I 

mentioned  the  journal. 

'That's  him.  'Looks  like  a  tough,  talks  like  a 
Maxim,  and  trains  with  kings.' 

'He  does,'  I  said.  'Burton-Walen  knows  all  the 
crowned  heads  of  Europe  intimately.  It's  his 
hobby.' 

'Well,  there's  the  whole  outfit  for  you — exceptin'  my 
Lord  Marshalton,  ne  Mankeltow,  an'  me.  All  active 
murderers — specially  the  Law  Lord — or  accessories 
after  the  fact.  And  what  do  they  hand  you  out  for 
that,  in  this  country.?' 

'Twenty  years,  I  believe,*  was  my  reply. 

He  reflected  a  moment. 

'No-o-o,'  he  said,  and  followed  it  with  a  smoke-ring. 
'Twenty  months  at  the  Cape  is  my  limit.  Say,  murder 
ain't  the  soul-shatterin'  event  those  nature-fakers  in 
the  magazines  make  out.  It  develops  naturally  Hke 
any  other  proposition.  .  .  .  Say,  'j'ever  play  this 
golf  game?  It's  come  up  in  the  States  from  Maine  to 
California,  an'  we're  prodoocin'  all  the  champions  in 
sight.  Not  a  business  man's  play,  but  interestin'.  I've 
got  a  golf-links  in  the  park  here  that  they  tell  me  is  the 
finest  inland  course  ever.  I  had  to  pay  extra  for  that 
when  I  hired  the  ranche — last  year.     It  was  just  before 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING         287 

signed  the  papers  that  our  murder  eventuated.     My 

!^ord  Marshalton  he  asked  me  down  for  the  week-end 

:o  fix  up  something  or  other — about  Peters  and  the 

inen,  I  think  'twas.     Mrs.  Zigler  took  a  holt  of  the 

>roposition.     She   understood    Peters   from   the  word 

*go.''     There  wasn't  any  house-party;  only  fifteen  or 

:wenty  folk.     A  full  house  is  thirty-two,  Tommy  tells 

ne.     'Guess  we  must  be  near  on  that  to-night.     In  the 

jmoking-room  here,  my  Lord  Marshalton — Mankeltow 

that  was — introduces  me  to  this  Walen  man  with  the 

nose.     He'd  been  in  the  War  too,  from  start  to  finish. 

He  knew  all  the  columns  and  generals  that  I'd  battled 

with  in  the  days  of  my  Zigler  gun.     We  kinder  fell  into 

each  other's  arms  an'  let  the  harsh  world  go  by  for  a 

while. 

'Walen  he  introduces  me  to  your  Lord  Lundie.  He 
was  a  new  proposition  to  me.  If  he  hadn't  been  a 
lawyer  he'd  have  made  a  lovely  cattle-king.  I  thought 
I  had  played  poker  some.  Another  of  my  breaks. 
Ya-as!  It  cost  me  eleven  hundred  dollars  besides  what 
Tommy  said  when  I  retired.  I  have  no  fault  to  find 
with  your  hereditary  aristocracy,  or  your  judiciary,  or 
your  press. 

*  Sunday  we  all  went  to  Church  across  the  Park  here. 
.  .  .  Psha!  Think  o'  your  rememberin'  my  re- 
ligion! I've  become  an  Episcopalian  since  I  married. 
Ya-as.  .  .  .  After  lunch  Walen  did  his  crowned- 
heads-of-Europe  stunt  in  the  smokin'-room  here.  He 
was  long  on  Kings.  And  Continental  crises.  I  do  not 
pretend  to  follow  British  domestic  politics,  but  in  the 


288         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

aeroplane  business  a  man  has  to  know  something  of 
international  possibilities.  At  present,  you  British  are 
settin'  in  kimonoes  on  dynamite  kegs.  Walen's  talk 
put  me  wise  on  the  location  and  size  of  some  of  the 
kegs.     Ya-as! 

'After  that,  we  four  went  out  to  look  at  those  golf- 
links  I  was  hirin'.  We  each  took  a  club.  Mine' — he 
glanced  at  a  great  tan  bag  by  the  fire-place — *was  the 
beginner's  friend — ^the  cleek.  Well,  sir,  this  golf  propo- 
sition took  a  holt  of  me  as  quick  as — quick  as  death. 
They  had  to  prise  me  off  the  greens  when  it  got  too  dark 
to  see,  and  then  we  went  back  to  the  house.  I  was 
walkin'  ahead  with  my  Lord  Marshalton  talkin'  be- 
ginners' golf.  (/  was  the  man  who  ought  to  have  been 
killed  by  rights.)  We  cut  'cross  lots  through  the  woods 
to  Flora's  Temple — that  place  I  showed  you  this  after- 
noon. Lundie  and  Walen  were,  maybe,  twenty  or 
thirty  rod  behind  us  in  the  dark.  Marshalton  and  I 
stopped  at  the  theatre  to  admire  at  the  ancestral  yew- 
trees.  He  took  me  right  under  the  biggest — King 
Somebody's  Yew — and  while  I  was  spannin'  it  with  my 
handkerchief,  he  says,  "Look  heah!"  just  as  if  it  was 
a  rabbit — and  down  comes  a  bi-plane  into  the  theatre 
with  no  more  noise  than  the  dead.  My  Rush  Silencer 
is  the  only  one  on  the  market  that  allows  that  sort  of 
gumshoe  work.  .  .  .  What?  A  bi-plane — ^with 
two  men  in  it.  Both  men  jump  out  and  start  fussin' 
with  the  engines.  I  was  starting  to  tell  Mankeltow — 
I  can't  remember  to  call  him  Marshalton  any  more — 
that  it  looked  as  if  the  Royal  British  Flying  Corps  had 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING         289 

;ot  on  to  my  Rush  Silencer  at  last;  but  he  steps  out 
rom  under  the  yew  to  these  two  Stealthy  Steves  and 
ays,  "What's  the  trouble?  Can  I  be  of  any  service?" 
le  thought — so  did  I — 'twas  some  of  the  boys  from 
Udershot  or  Salisbury.  Well,  sir,  from  there  on,  the 
lituation  developed  like  a  motion-picture  in  Hell.  The 
nan  on  the  nigh  side  of  the  machine  whirls  round,  pulls 
lis  gun  and  fires  into  Mankeltow's  face.  I  laid  him  out 
vith  my  cleek  automatically.  Any  one  who  shoots  a 
•riend  of  mine  gets  what's  comin'  to  him  if  Fm  within 
reach.  He  drops.  Mankeltow  rubs  his  neck  with  his 
landkerchief.  The  man  the  far  side  of  the  machine 
starts  to  run.  Lundie  down  the  ride,  or  it  might  have 
been  Walen,  shouts,  "What's  happened?"  Mankel- 
tow says,  "Collar  that  chap." 

*The  second  man  runs  ring-a-ring-o '-roses  round  the 
machine,  one  hand  reachin'  behind  him.  Mankeltow 
heads  him  off  to  me.  He  breaks  blind  for  Walen  and 
Lundie,  who  are  runnin'  up  the  ride.  There's  some 
sort  of  mix-up  among  'em,  which  it's  too  dark  to  see, 
and  a  thud.  Walen  says,  "Oh,  well  collared!"  Lundie 
says,  "That's  the  only  thing  I  never  learned  at  Har- 
row!" .  .  .  Mankeltow  runs  up  to  'em,  still 
rubbin'  his  neck,  and  says,  ^^He  didn't  fire  at  me.  It 
was  the  other  chap.     Where  is  he?" 

'"I've  stretched  him  alongside  his  machine,"  I  says. 

*"Are  they  poachers?"  says  Lundie. 

'"No.  Airmen.  I  can't  make  it  out,"  says  Man- 
keltow. 

*"Look    at   here,"    says   Walen,    kind    of  brusque. 


290         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

"This  man  ain't  breathin'   at  all.     Didn't  you  hea 
somethin'  crack  when  he  lit,  Lundie?" 

'"My  God!"  says  Lundie.     "Did  I?     I  thought  i 
was  my  suspenders" — no,  he  said  "braces." 

'Right  there  I  left  them  and  sort  o'  tip-toed  back  t( 
my  man,  hopin'  he'd  revived  and  quit.  But  he  hadn't 
That  darned  cleek  had  hit  him  on  the  back  of  the  necli 
just  where  his  helmet  stopped.  He'd  got  his.  I  kneM 
it  by  the  way  the  head  rolled  in  my  hands.  Then  tht 
others  came  up  the  ride  totin'  their  load.  No  mistakin 
that  shuffle  on  grass.  D'you  remember  it — in  South 
Africa  ?    Ya-as. 

*"Hsh!"  says  Lundie.  "Do  you  know  I've  broken 
this  man's  neck?" 

'"Same  here,"  I  says. 

'"What.?     Both?"  says  Mankeltow. 

'"Nonsense!"  says  Lord  Lundie.  "Who'd  have 
thought  he  was  that  out  of  training?  A  man  oughtn't 
to  fly  if  he  ain't  fit." 

'"What  did  they  want  here,  anyway?"  said  Walen; 
and  Mankeltow  says,  "We  can't  leave  them  in  the 
open.  Some  one '11  come.  Carry  'em  to  Flora's  Tem- 
ple." 

We  toted  'em  again  and  laid  'em  out  on  a  stone 
bench.  They  were  still  dead  in  spite  of  our  best  at- 
tentions. We  knew  it,  but  we  went  through  the  mo- 
tions till  it  was  quite  dark.  'Wonder  if  all  murderers 
do  that?  "We  want  a  Hght  on  this,"  says  Walen  after 
a  spell.  "There  ought  to  be  one  in  the  machine.  Why 
didn't  they  light  it?" 


Ilea: 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING         291 

*We  came  out  of  Flora's  Temple,  and  shut  the  doors 
^hind  us.  Some  stars  were  showing  then — same  as 
hen  Cain  did  his  Httle  act,  I  guess.  I  climbed  up  and 
arched  the  machine.     She  was  very  well  equipped, 

i found  two  electric  torches  in  clips  alongside  her  barom- 
ers  by  the  rear  seat. 
'"What  make  is  she?"  says  Mankeltow. 
'"Continental    Renzalaer,"    I    says.     "My   engines 
{]( nd  my  Rush  Silencer.'* 

n  'Walen  whistles.  "Here — let  me  look,"  he  says,  and 
tj  rabs  the  other  torch.  She  was  sure  well  equipped. 
V^e  gathered  up  an  armful  of  cameras  an'  maps  an' 
ote-books  an'  an  album  of  mounted  photographs  which 
^e  took  to  Flora's  Temple  and  spread  on  a  marble- 
opped  table  (I'll  show  you  to-morrow)  which  the  King 
if  Naples  had  presented  to  grandfather  Marshalton. 
Valen  starts  to  go  through  'em.  We  wanted  to  know 
vhy  our  friends  had  been  so  prejudiced  against  our 
ociety. 

*  "Wait  a  minute,"  says  Lord  Lundie.  "Lend  me  a 
landkerchief." 

*He  pulls  out  his  own,  and  Walen  contributes  his 
yreen-and-red  bandanna,  and  Lundie  covers  their  faces. 
Now,"  he  says,  "we'll  go  into  the  evidence." 

*  There  wasn't  any  flaw  in  that  evidence.  Walen 
read  out  their  last  observations,  and  Mankeltow  asked 
questions,  and  Lord  Lundie  sort  o'  summarised,  and  I 
looked  at  the  photos  in  the  album.  'J'ever  see  a  bird's- 
eye  telephoto-survey  of  England  for  military  purposes  ? 
It's  interestin'  but  indecent — like  turnin'  a  man  upside 


292         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

down.     None  of  those  close-range  panoramas  of  fortj 
could  have  been  taken  without  my  Rush  Silencer. 

*"I  wish  we  was  as  thorough  as  they  are,"  says 
Mankeltow,  when  Walen  stopped  translatin*. 

*"  We've  been  thorough  enough/'  says  Lord  Lundie. 
"The  evidence  against  both  accused  is  conclusive, 
Any  other  country  would  give  'em  seven  years  in  ^1 
fortress.  We  should  probably  give  'em  eighteen  months 
as  first-class  misdemeanants.  But  their  case,"  he  says, 
"is  out  of  our  hands.  We  must  review  our  own.  Mr. 
Zigler,"  he  said,  "will  you  tell  us  what  steps  you  took 
to  bring  about  the  death  of  the  first  accused?"  I  told 
him.  He  wanted  to  know  specially  whether  I'd 
stretched  first  accused  before  or  after  he  had  fired  at 
Mankeltow.  Mankeltow  testified  he'd  been  shot  at,| 
and  exhibited  his  neck  as  evidence.     It  was  scorched. 

*"Now,  Mr.  Walen,"  says  Lord  Lundie.  "Will  you 
kindly  tell  us  what  steps  you  took  with  regard  to  the 
second  accused?" 

*"The  man  ran  directly  at  me,  me  lord,"  says  Walen. 
"I  said,  *0h  no,  you  don't,'  and  hit  him  in  the  face." 

*Lord  Lundie  lifts  one  hand  and  uncovers  second  ac- 
cused's face.  There  was  a  bruise  on  one  cheek  and  the 
chin  was  all  greened  with  grass.  He  was  a  heavy-built 
man. 

*"What  happened  after  that?"  says  Lord  Lundie. 

*"To  the  best  of  my  remembrance  he  turned  from  me 
towards  your  lOrdship." 

*Then  Lundie  goes  ahead.  "I  stooped,  and  caught 
the  man  round  the  ankles,"  he  says.     "The  sudden 


I  THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING         293 

leck  threw  him  partially  over  my  left  shoulder.  I 
rked  him  off  that  shoulder,  still  holding  his  ankles, 
id  he  fell  heavily  on,  it  would  appear,  the  point  of  his 
in,  death  being  instantaneous/* 
*"  Death  being  instantaneous,"  says  Walen. 
*Lord  Lundie  takes  ofF  his  gown  and  wig — you  could 
e  him  do  it — and  becomes  our  fellow-murderer. 
That's  our  case,''  he  says.  "I  know  how  /  should 
rect  the  jury,  but  it's  an  undignified  business  for  a 
3rd  of  Appeal  to  lift  his  hand  to,  and  some  of  my 
arned  brothers,"  he  says,  "might  be  disposed  to  be 
cetious." 

*I  guess  I  can't  be  properly  sensitised.  Any  one  who 
eered  me  out  of  that  trouble  might  have  had  the  laugh 
1  me  for  generations.  But  I'm  only  a  millionaire.  I 
id  we'd  better  search  second  accused  in  case  he'd 
ben  carryin'  concealed  weapons. 

*"That  certainly  is  a  point,"  says  Lord  Lundie. 
But  the  question  for  the  jury  would  be  whether  I 
cercised  more  force  than  was  necessary  to  prevent 
im  from  usin'  them."  I  didn't  say  anything.  He 
asn't  talkin'  my  language.  Second  accused  had  his 
un  on  him  sure  enough,  but  it  had  jammed  in  his 
ip-pocket.  He  was  too  fleshy  to  reach  behind  for 
usiness  purposes,  and  he  didn't  look  a  gun-man  any- 
ay.  Both  of  'em  carried  wads  of  private  letters.  By 
le  time  Walen  had  translated,  we  knew  how  many 
bildren  the  fat  one  had  at  home  and  when  the  thin  one 
ickoned  to  be  married.  Too  bad!  Ya-as. 
*Says  Walen  to  me  while  we  was  rebuttonin'  their 


294         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

jackets  (they  was  not  in  uniform) :  "Ever  read  a  bo< 
called  The  Wrecker s,  Mr.  Zigler?" 

*"Not  that  I  recall  at  the  present  moment,"  I  say 

*"Well,  do,"  he  says.  "You'd  appreciate  it.  You 
appreciate  it  now,  I  assure  you." 

*"ril  remember,"  I  says.  "But  I  don't  see  how  th 
song  and  dance  helps  us  any.  Here's  our  corpses,  here 
their  machine,  and  daylight's  bound  to  come." 

*"  Heavens!  That  reminds  me,"  says  Lundi 
"What  time's  dinner?" 

'"Half-past  eight,"  says  Mankeltow.  "It's  hal 
past  five  now.  We  knocked  off  golf  at  twenty  to,  ar 
if  they  hadn't  been  such  silly  asses,  firin'  pistols  lil 
civilians,  we'd  have  had  them  to  dinner.  Why,  the 
might  be  sitting  with  us  in  the  smoking-room  this  vei 
minute,"  he  says.  Then  he  said  that  no  man  had 
right  to  take  his  profession  so  seriously  as  these  t\^ 
mountebanks. 

'"How  interestin'!"  says  Lundie.  "I've  notice 
this  impatient  attitude  toward  their  victim  in  a  goo 
many  murderers.  I  never  understood  it  before.  ( 
course,  it's  the  disposal  of  the  body  that  annoys  'en 
Now,  I  wonder,"  he  says,  "who  our  case  will  come  u 
before?     Let's  run  through  it  again." 

*Then  Walen  whirls  in.  He'd  been  bitin'  his  nails  in 
corner.  We  was  all  nerved  up  by  now.  .  .  .  Me  ?  Tt 
worst  of  the  bunch.     I  had  to  think  for  Tommy  aa  we] 

*"We  canH  be  tried,"  says  Walen.  "We  mustn 
be  tried!  It'll  make  an  infernal  international  stin] 
What  did  I  tell  you  in  the  smoking-room  after  luncF 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING         295 

)che   tension's    at    breaking-point    already.     This    'ud 
lap  it.     Can't  you  see  that?'' 

'*I  was  thinking  of  the  legal  aspect  of  the  case," 
I'lys    Lundie.     "With    a    good    jury    we'd    likely    be 
cquitted." 

'Acquitted!"  says  Walen.  "Who'd  dare  acquit  us 
1  the  face  of  what  'ud  be  demanded  by — the  other 
arty?  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  War  of  Jenkins'  ear? 
£ver  hear  of  Mason  and  Slidel  ?  'Ever  hear  of  an 
Itimatum?  You  know  who  these  two  idiots  are;  you 
:now  who  we  are — a  Lord  of  Appeal,  a  Viscount  of  the 
English  peerage,  and  me — me  knowing  all  I  know,  which 
le  men  who  know  dam'  well  know  that  I  do  know! 
t's  our  necks  or  Armageddon.  Which  do  you  think 
his  Government  would  choose?  We  canH  be  tried!" 
le  says. 

*"Then  I  expect  I'll  have  to  resign  me  club,"  Lundie 
oes  on.  "I  don't  think  that's  ever  been  done  before 
)y  an  ex-officio  member.  I  must  ask  the  secretary." 
'.  guess  he  was  kinder  bunkered  for  the  minute,  or 
naybe  'twas  the  lordship  comin'  out  on  him. 

'"Rot!"    says    Mankeltow.     "Walen's    right.     We 

:an't  afford  to  be  tried.     We'll  have  to  bury  them;  but 

ny  head-gardener  locks  up  all  the  tools  at  five  o'clock." 

*"Not  on  your  life!"  says  Lundie.     He  was  on  deck 

Lgain — as  the  high-class  lawyer.     "Right  or  wrong,  if 

ve  attempt  concealment  of  the  bodies  we're  done  for." 

'"I'm  glad  of  that,"  says  Mankeltow,  "because,  after 

ill,  it  ain't  cricket  to  bury  'em." 

'Somehow — but  I  know  I  ain't  English — that  con- 


296         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

sideration  didn't  worry  me  as  it  ought.  An'  besides,  1 
was  thinkin' — I  had  to — an'  I'd  begun  to  see  a  Hghl 
'way  off — a  Httle  ghmmerin'  Hght  o'  salvation. 

*"Then  what  are  we  to  do?"  says  Walen.  "Zigler, 
what  do  you  advise?     Your  neck's  in  it  too." 

'"Gentlemen,"  I  says,  "something  Lord  Lundie  let 
fall  a  while  back  gives  me  an  idea.  I  move  that  this 
committee  empowers  Big  Claus  and  Little  Claus,  who 
have  elected  to  commit  suicide  in  our  midst,  to  leave  the 
premises  as  they  came.  I'm  asking  you  to  take  big 
chances,"  I  says,  "but  they're  all  we've  got,"  and  then  1 
broke  for  the  bi-plane. 

*  Don't  tell  me  the  EngHsh  can't  think  as  quick  as  the 
next  man  when  it's  up  to  them !  They  lifted  'em  out  o^ 
Flora's  Temple — reverent,  but  not  wastin'  time — ^whilst 
I  found  out  what  had  brought  her  down.  One  cylindei 
was  misfirin'.  I  didn't  stop  to  fix  it.  My  Renzalaei 
will  hold  up  on  six.  We've  proved  that.  If  her  crew 
had  relied  on  my  guarantees,  they'd  have  been  half-wa> 
home  by  then,  instead  of  takin'  their  seats  with  hangin 
heads  like  they  was  ashamed.  They  ought  to  have  beer 
ashamed  too,  playin'  gun-men  in  a  British  peer's  park 
I  took  big  chances  startin'  her  without  controls,  bui 
'twas  a  dead  still  night  an'  a  clear  run — you  saw  it— 
across  the  Theatre  into  the  park,  and  I  prayed  she'd  ris( 
before  she  hit  high  timber.  I  set  her  all  I  dared  for  i 
quick  Hft.  I  told  Mankeltow  that  if  I  gave  her  toe 
much  nose  she'd  be  Hable  to  up-end  and  flop.  He  didn't 
want  another  inquest  on  his  estate.  No,  sir!  So  ] 
had  to  fix  her  up  in  the  dark.     Ya-as! 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING         297 

*  I  took  big  chances,  too,  while  those  other  three  held 
1  to  her  and  I  worked  her  up  to  full  power.     My 

enzalaer's  no  ventilation-fan  to  pull  against.     But  I 

imbed  out  just  in  time.     Fd  hitched  the  signallin' 

mp  to  her  tail  so's  we  could  track  her.  Otherwise, 
ith  my  Rush  Silencer,  we  might's  well  have  shooed  an 
w\  out  of  a  barn.  She  left  just  that  way  when  we  let 
er  go.  No  sound  except  the  propellers — Whoo-oo-oo  ! 
'^hoo-00-00  !  There  was  a  dip  in  the  ground  ahead. 
t  hid  her  lamp  for  a  second — but  there's  no  such  thing 
s  time  in  real  life.  Then  that  lamp  travelled  up  the 
ir  slope  slow — too  slow.  Then  it  kinder  lifted,  we 
idged.  Then  it  sure  was  liftin'.  Then  it  lifted  good. 
)'you  know  why.^  Our  four  naked  perspirin'  souls 
ras  out  there  underneath  her,  hikin'  her  heavens  high. 
^es,  sir.  We  did  it!  .  .  .  And  that  lamp  kept 
ftin'  and  liftin'.  Then  she  side-slipped!  My  God, 
he  side-slipped  twice,  which  was  what  I'd  been  afraid 
f  all  along!  Then  she  straightened  up,  and  went 
way  climbin'  to  glory,  for  that  blessed  star  of  our  hope 
pt  smaller  and  smaller  till  we  couldn't  track  it  any 

ore.  Then  we  breathed.  We  hadn't  breathed  any 
lince  their  arrival,  but  we  didn't  know  it  till  we  breathed 
:hat  time — all  together.  Then  we  dug  our  finger-nails 
)ut  of  our  palms  an'  came  alive  again — in  instalments. 

'Lundie  spoke  first.  "We  therefore  commit  their 
)odies  to  the  air,"  he  says,  an'  puts  his  cap  on. 

*"The  deep — the  deep,"  says  Walen.  "It's  just 
:wenty-three  miles  to  the  Channel." 

*"Poor    chaps!     Poor    chaps!"    says    Mankeltow. 


298         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

**We'd  have  had  'em  to  dinner  if  they  hadn't  lost  thei 
heads.  I  can't  tell  you  how  this  distresses  me,  Laugh 
ton." 

'"Well,  look  at  here,  Arthur,"  I  says.  "It's  onh 
God's  Own  Mercy  you  an'  me  ain't  lyin'  in  Flora'i 
Temple  now,  and  if  that  fat  man  had  known  enough  t( 
fetch  his  gun  around  while  he  was  runnin',  Lord  Lundii 
and  Walen  would  have  been  alongside  us." 

*"I  see  that,"  he  says.  "But  we're  alive  and  they'n 
dead,  don't  ye  know." 

*"I  know  it,"  I  says.  ** That's  where  the  dead  an 
always  so  damned  unfair  on  the  survivors." 

*"I  see  that  too,"  he  says.  "But  I'd  have  given  j 
good  deal  if  it  hadn't  happened,  poor  chaps!" 

*  "Amen ! "  says  Lundie.  Then  ?  Oh,  then  we  sorte 
walked  back  two  an'  two  to  Flora's  Temple  an'  li 
matches  to  see  we  hadn't  left  anything  behind.  Walen 
he  had  confiscated  the  note-books  before  they  left 
There  was  the  first  man's  pistol  which  we'd  forgot  t< 
return  him,  lyin'  on  the  stone  bench.  Mankelto\ 
puts  his  hand  on  it — he  never  touched  the  trigger — an' 
bein'  an  automatic,  of  course  the  b  ame  thing  jarred  of 
— spiteful  as  a  rattler! 

* "  Look  out !  They'll  have  one  of  us  yet,"  says  Walei 
in  the  dark.  But  they  didn't — the  Lord  hadn't  qui 
being  our  shepherd — and  we  heard  the  bullet  zip  acros 
the  veldt — quite  Hke  old  times.     Ya-as! 

*" Swine!"  says  Mankeltow. 

*  After  that  I  didn't  hear  any  more  "Poor  chap"  talk 
.     .     .     Me.?     I  never  worried  about  killing  my  man, 


THE  EDGE  OF  THE  EVENING  299 

was  too  busy  figurin'  how  a  British  jury  might  regard 
le  proposition.     I  guess  Lundie  felt  that  way  too. 
*0h,  but  say!     We  had  an  interestin'  time  at  dinner, 
oiks  was  expected  whose  auto  had  hung  up  on  the 
oad.     They  hadn't  wired,   and   Peters  had  laid  two 
xtra  places.     We  noticed  'em  as  soon  as  we  sat  down, 
'd  hate  to  say  how  noticeable  they  were.     Mankeltow 
rith  his  neck  bandaged  (he'd  caught  a  relaxed  throat 
olfin')  sent  for  Peters  and  told   him   to   take  those 
mpty  places  away — if  you  please      It  takes  something 
rattle  Peters.     He  was  rattled  that  time.     Nobody 
;lse  noticed  anything.     And  now     .     .     .' 
'Where  did  they  come  down?'  I  asked,  as  he  rose. 
*In  the  Channel,  I  guess.     There  was  nothing  in  the 
)apers  about  'em.     Shall  we  go  into  the  drawin'-room, 
ind  see  what  these  boys  and  girls  are  doin.?'     But  say, 
ain't  Hfe  in  England  inter^jtin '  ? " 


REBIRTH 

If  any  God  should  say 

**I  will  restore 
The  world  her  yesterday 
Whole  as  before 
My  Judgment  blasted  it'' — who  would  not  lift 
Heart,  eye,  and  hand  in  passion  o'er  the  gift? 


If  any  God  should  will 
To  wipe  from  mind 
The  memory  of  this  ill 
Which  is  mankind 
In  soul  and  substance  now — who  would  not  bless 
Even  to  tears  His  loving-tenderness  ? 

If  any  God  should  give 

Us  leave  to  fly 
These  present  deaths  we  live, 
And  safely  die 
In  those  lost  lives  we  lived  ere  we  were  born — 
What  man  but  would  not  laugh  the  excuse  to  scorn  ? 

300 


REBIRTH  301 

For  we  are  what  we  are — 

So  broke  to  blood 
And  the  strict  works  of  war — 
So  long  subdued 
To  sacrifice,  that  threadbare  Death  commands 
Hardly  observance  at  our  busier  hands. 

Yet  we  were  what  we  were, 

And,  fashioned  so. 
It  pleases  us  to  stare 
At  the  far  show 
Of  unbelievable  years  and  shapes  that  flit, 
In  our  own  likeness,  on  the  edge  of  it. 


The  Horse  Marines 

(1911) 

The  Rt.  Hon.  R.  B.  Haldane,  Secretary  of  State  for 
■^ar,^  was  questioned  in  the  House  of  Commons  on  April 
ih  about  the  rocking-horses  which  the  War  Office  is  using 
n  the  purpose  of  teaching  recruits  to  ride.     Lord  Ronald- 
lay  asked  the  War  Secretary  if  rocking-horses  were  to  he 
applied  to  all  the  cavalry  regiments  for  teaching  recruits 
ride.     'The  nolle  Lord;   replied  Mr.   Haldane,   'is 
oubtless  alluding  to  certain  dummy  horses  on  rockers^ 
'hich   have   been   tested  with  very   satisfactory   results. 
The  mechanical  steed  is  a  wooden  horse  with  an 
stonishing  tail     It  is  painted  brown  and  mounted  on 
winging  rails.     The  recruit  leaps  into  the  saddle  and 
mils  at  the  reins  while  the  riding-instructor  rocks  the 
mimal  to  and  fro  with  his  foot.     The  rocking-horses  are 
>eing  made  at  Woolwich.     They  are  quite  cheap. 

— Daily  Paper. 

V[y  instructions  to  Mr.  Leggatt,  my  engineer,  had  been 
iccurately  obeyed.  He  was  to  bring  my  car  on  com- 
pletion of  annual  overhaul,  from  Coventry  via  London, 
to  Southampton  Docks  to  await  my  arrival;  and  very 
pretty  she  looked,  under  the  steamer^s  side  among  the 
*  Now  Viscount  Haldane  of  Cloan. 
303 


304         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

railway  lines,  at  six  in  the  morning.  Next  to  her  nev 
paint  and  varnish  I  was  most  impressed  by  her  foui 
brand-new  tyres. 

*But  I  didn't  order  new  tyres,'  I  said  as  we  movec 
away.     *  These  are  Irresilients,  too.' 

*  Treble-ribbed,'  said  Leggatt.  *Diamond-stuc 
sheathing.' 

*Then  there  has  been  a  mistake.' 

*0h  no,  sir;  they're  gratis.' 

The  number  of  motor  manufacturers  who  give  away 
complete  sets  of  treble-ribbed  Irresilient  tyres  is  so 
limited  that  I  believe  I  asked  Leggatt  for  an  explanation. 

*I  don't  know  that  I  could  very  well  explain,  sir,' 
was  the  answer.  *It  'ud  come  better  from  Mr.  Pye- 
croft.  He's  on  leaf  at  Portsmouth — staying  with  his 
uncle.  His  uncle  'ad  the  body  all  night.  I'd  defy  you 
to  find  a  scratch  on  her  even  with  a  microscope.' 

*Then  we  will  go  home  by  the  Portsmouth  road,'  I 
said. 

And  we  went  at  those  speeds  which  are  allowed  be- 
fore the  working-day  begins  or  the  police  are  thawed  out. 
We  were  blocked  near  Portsmouth  by  a  battalion  of 
Regulars  on  the  move. 

'Whitsuntide  manoeuvres  just  ending,'  said  Leggatt. 
'They've  had  a  fortnight  in  the  Downs.' 

He  said  no  more  until  we  were  in  a  narrow  street 
somewhere  behind  Portsmouth  Town  Railway  Station, 
where  he  slowed  at  a  green-grocery  shop.  The  door 
was  open,  and  a  small  old  man  sat  on  three  potato- 
baskets  swinging  his  feet  over  a  stooping  blue  back. 


le^ 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  305 

*You  call  that  shinin'  'em?'  he  piped.     *Can  you  see 
n  your  face  in  'em  yet  ?     No !     Then  shine  'em,  or  I'll  give 
you  a  beltin'  you'll  remember!' 

*If  you  stop  kickin'  me  in  the  mouth  perhaps  Fd  do 
better,'  said  Pyecroft's  voice  meekly, 
uj     We  blew  the  horn. 

Pyecroft  arose,  put  away  the  brushes,  and  received 
us  not  otherwise  than  as  a  king  in  his  own  country. 

'Are  you  going  to  leave  me  up  here  all  day?'  said  the 
old  man. 

Pyecroft  lifted  him  down  and  he  hobbled  into  the 
back  room. 

*It's  his  corns,'  Pyecroft  explained.  *You  can't 
shine  corny  feet — and  he  hasn't  had  his  breakfast.* 

*I  haven't  had  mine  either,'  I  said. 

*  Breakfast  for  two  more,  uncle,'  Pyecroft  sang  out. 
*Go  out  an'  buy  it  then,'  was  the  answer,  *or  else  it's 

half-rations.' 

Pyecroft  turned  to  Leggatt,  gave  him  his  marketing 
orders,  and  despatched  him  with  the  coppers. 

*I  have  got  four  new  tyres  on  my  car,'  I  began  im- 
pressively. 

*  Yes,'  said  Mr.  Pyecroft.  *  You  have,  and  I  zvill  say' 
— he  patted  my  car's  bonnet — 'you  earned  'em.' 

*  I  want  to  know  why ,'  I  went  on. 

*  Quite  justifiable.  You  haven't  noticed  anything  in 
the  papers,  have  you?' 

'I've  only  just  landed.  I  haven't  seen  a  paper  for 
weeks.' 

'Then  you  can  lend  me  a  virgin  ear.     There's  been  a 


^ 


306         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

scandal  in  the  Junior  Service — the  Army,  I  believe 
they  call  'em.' 

A  bag  of  coffee-beans  pitched  on  the  counter.     *  Roast ; 
that,'  said  the  uncle  from  within.  • 

Pyecroft  rigged  a  small  coffee-roaster,  while  I  took 
down  the  shutters,  and  sold  a  young  lady  in  curl- 
papers two  bunches  of  mixed  greens  and  one  soft 
orange. 

'Sickly  stuff  to  handle  on  an  empty  stomach,  ain't 
it?'  said  Pyecroft. 

'What  about  my  new  tyres  .f"  I  insisted. 

*0h,  any  amount.  But  the  question  is' — he  looked 
at  me  steadily — *is  this  what  you  might  call  a  court- 
martial  or  a  post-mortem  inquiry?' 

'Strictly  a  post-mortem,'  said  I. 

*Th'at  being  so,'  said  Pyecroft,  'we  can  rapidly  arrive 
at  facts.  Last  Thursday — the  shutters  go  behind  those 
baskets — last  Thursday  at  five  bells  in  the  forenoon 
watch,  otherwise  ten-thirty  a.m.,  your  Mr.  Leggatt  was 
discovered  on  Westminster  Bridge  laying  his  course  for 
the  Old  Kent  Road.' 

'But  that  doesn't  lead  to  Southampton,'  I  inter- 
rupted. 

'Then  perhaps  he  was  swinging  the  car  for  compasses. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  we  found  him  in  that  latitude,  simul- 
taneous as  Jules  and  me  was  ong  route  for  Waterloo  to 
rejoin  our  respective  ships — or  Navies  I  should  say. 
Jules  was  a  permissionaire,  which  meant  being  on  leaf, 
same  as  me,  from  a  French  cassowary-cruiser  at  Ports- 
mouth.    A  party  of  her  trusty  and  well-beloved  petty 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  307 

Dfficers  *ad  been  seeing  London,  chaperoned  by  the  R.C. 
Chaplain.  Jules  'ad  detached  himself  from  the  squadron 
and  was  cruisin'  on  his  own  when  I  joined  him,  in. 
company  of  copious  lady-friends.  But,  mark  you,  your 
Mr.  Leggatt  drew  the  Hne  at  the  girls.  Loud  and  long 
he  drew  it.' 

*rm  glad  of  that,'  I  said. 

*You  may  be.  He  adopted  the  puristical  formation 
from  the  first.  "Yes,"  he  said,  when  we  was  annealing 
him  at — but  you  wouldn't  know  the  pub — "  I  am  going 
to  Southampton,"  he  says,  "and  I'll  stretch  a  point  to 
go  via  Portsmouth;  but"  says  he,  "seeing  what  sort  of 
one  hell  of  a  time  invariably  trarnspires  when  we  cruise 
together,  Mr.  Pyecroft,  I  do  not  feel  myself  justified 
towards  my  generous  and  long-sufFering  employer  in 
takin'  on  that  kind  of  ballast  as  well."  I  assure  you  he 
considered  your  interests.' 

*And  the  girls?'  I  asked. 

*0h,  I  left  that  to  Jules.  I'm  a  monogomite  by 
nature.  So  we  embarked  strictly  ong  gargong.  But  I 
should  tell  you,  in  case  he  didn't,  that  your  Mr.  Leg- 
gatt's  care  for  your  interests  'ad  extended  to  sheathing 
the  car  in  matting  and  gunny-bags  to  preserve  her  paint- 
work.    She  was  all  swathed  up  Hke  an  I-talian  baby.' 

*He  is  careful  about  his  paint-work,'  I  said. 

*  For  a  man  with  no  Service  experience  I  should  say 
he  was  fair  homicidal  on  the  subject.  If  we'd  been 
Marines  he  couldn't  have  been  more  pointed  in  his 
allusions  to  our  hob-nailed  socks.  However,  we  re- 
duced him  to  a  malleable  condition,  and  embarked  for 


3o8         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Portsmouth.  Fd  seldom  rejoined  my  vaisseau  ongi 
automobile,  avec  a  fur  coat  and  goggles.  Nor  'ad 
Jules.' 

*  Did  Jules  say  much  ?  *  I  asked,  helplessly  turning  the 
handle  of  the  coffee-roaster. 

*  That's  where  I  pitied  the  pore  beggar.     He  'adn't ' 
the  language,  so  to  speak.     He  was  confined  to  heavings 
and  shruggin's  and  copious  Mong  Jews!    The  French 
are  very  badly  fitted  with  relief-valves.     And  then  our 
Mr.  Leggatt  drove.     He  drove.' 

*Was  he  in  a  very  malleable  condition?' 

*Not  him!  We  recognised  the  value  of  his  cargo 
from  the  outset.  He  hadn't  a  chance  to  get  more  than 
moist  at  the  edges.  After  which  we  went  to  sleep;  and 
now  we'll  go  to  breakfast.' 

We  entered  the  back  room  where  everything  was  in 
order,  and  a  screeching  canary  made  us  welcome.  The 
uncle  had  added  sausages  and  piles  of  buttered  toast  to 
the  kippers.  The  coffee,  cleared  with  a  piece  of  fish- 
skin,  was  a  revelation. 

Leggatt,  who  seemed  to  know  the  premises,  had  run 
the  car  into  the  tiny  backyard  where  her  mirror-like 
back  almost  blocked  up  the  windows.  He  minded 
shop  while  we  ate.  Pyecroft  passed  him  his  rations 
through  a  flap  in  the  door.  The  uncle  ordered  him  in, 
after  breakfast,  to  wash  up,  and  he  jumped  in  his  gaiters 
at  the  old  man's  commands  as  he  has  never  jumped  to 
mine. 

*To  resoom  the  post-mortem,'  said  Pyecroft,  lighting 
his  pipe.     *My  slumbers  were  broken  by  the  propeller 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  309 

easing  to  revolve,  and  by  vile  language  from  your 
i^r.  Leggatt/ 

*I — I '  Leggatt  began,  a  blue-checked  duster  in 

ne  hand  and  a  cup  in  the  other. 

*When  you're  wanted  aft  you'll  be  sent  for,  Mr.  Leg- 
;att,'  said  Pyecroft  amiably.  'It's  clean  mess  decks 
or  you  now.  Resooming  once  more,  we  was  on  a 
onely  and  desolate  ocean  near  Portsdown,  surrounded 
)y  gorse  bushes,  and  a  Boy  Scout  was  stirring  my 
tomach  with  his  little  copper-stick.' 

*"You  count  ten,"  he  says. 

'"Very  good.  Boy  Jones,"  I  says,  "count  'em,"  and 

hauled  him  in  over  the  gunnel,  and  ten  I  gave  him 
vith  my  large  flat  hand.  The  remarks  he  passed, 
ying  face  down  tryin'  to  bite  my  leg,  would  have  re- 
lected  credit  on  any  Service.  Having  finished  I 
Iropped  him  overboard  again,  which  was  my  gross 
political  error.  I  ought  to  'ave  killed  him;  because  he 
jegan  signalling — rapid  and  accurate — in  a  sou'wes- 
:erly  direction.  Few  equatorial  calms  are  to  be 
ipprehended  when  B.P.'s  little  pets  take  to  signallin'. 
Make  a  note  o'  that!  Three  minutes  later  we  were 
stopped  and  boarded  by  Scouts — up  our  backs,  down 
3ur  necks,  and  in  our  boots!  The  last  I  heard  from 
^our  Mr.  Leggatt  as  he  went  under,  brushin'  'em  off  his 
:ap,  was  thanking  Heaven  he'd  covered  up  the  new 
paint-work  with  mats.     An  'eroic  soul!* 

*Not  a  scratch  on  her  body,'  said  Leggatt,  pouring 
3ut  the  coffee-grounds. 

'And  Jules.? 'said  L 


3IO         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Oh,  Jules  thought  the  much  advertised  Social  Revo- 
lution had  begun,  but  his  mackintosh  hampered  him. 

*You  told  me  to  bring  the  mackintosh/  Leggatt 
whispered  to  me. 

'And  when  I  'ad  'em  half  convinced  he  was  a  French 
vicomte  coming  down  to  visit  the  Commander-in-Chief 
at  Portsmouth,  he  tried  to  take  it  off.  Seeing  his 
uniform  underneath,  some  sucking  Sherlock  Holmes 
of  the  Pink  Eye  Patrol  (they  called  him  Eddy)  deduced 
that  I  wasn't  speaking  the  truth.  Eddy  said  I  was 
tryin'  to  sneak  into  Portsmouth  unobserved — unob- 
served mark  you! — and  join  hands  with  the  enemy.  It 
trarnspired  that  the  Scouts  was  conducting  a  field-day 
against  opposin'  forces,  ably  assisted  by  all  branches  ol 
the  Service,  and  they  was  so  afraid  the  car  wouldn't 
count  ten  points  to  them  in  the  fray,  that  they'd  have 
scalped  us,  but  for  the  intervention  of  an  umpire — alsc 
in  short  under-drawers.     A  fleshy  sight!' 

Here  Mr.  Pyecroft  shut  his  eyes  and  nodded.  'That 
umpire,'  he  said  suddenly,  'was  our  Mr.  Morshed — 2 
gentleman  whose  acquaintance  you  have  already  made 
and  profited  by,  if  I  mistake  not.'^ 

'Oh,  was  the  Navy  in  it  too?'  I  said;  for  I  had  read 
of  wild  doings  occasionally  among  the  Boy  Scouts  or 
the  Portsmouth  Road,  in  which  Navy,  Army,  and  the 
world  at  large  seemed  to  have  taken  part. 

'The  Navy  was  in  it.  I  was  the  only  one  out  of  it— 
for  several  seconds.  Our  Mr.  Morshed  failed  to  recog- 
nise me  in  my  fur  boa,  and  my  appealin'  winks  at  'ini 

**Their  Lawful  Occasions/  Traffics  and  Discoveries. 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  311 

behind  your  goggles  didn't  arrive.  But  when  Eddy 
dading  had  told  his  story,  I  saluted,  which  is  difficult  in 
furs,  and  I  stated  I  was  bringin'  him  dispatches  from 
the  North.  My  Mr.  Morshed  cohered  on  the  instant. 
Fve  never  known  his  ethergram  installations  out  of 
order  yet.  "Go  and  guard  your  blessed  road,"  he  says 
to  the  Fratton  Orphan  Asylum  standing  at  attention 
all  round  him,  and,  when  they  was  removed — "Pye- 
croft,"  he  says,  still  sotte  voce^  "what  in  Hong-Kong  are 
you  doing  with  this  dun-coloured  sampan?'' 

*It  was  your  Mr.  Leggatt's  paint-protective  matting 
which  caught  his  eye.  She  did  resemble  a  sampan, 
especially  about  the  stern-works.  At  these  remarks  I 
naturally  threw  myself  on  'is  bosom,  so  far  as  Service 
conditions  permitted,  and  revealed  him  all,  mentioning 
that  the  car  was  yours.  You  know  his  way  of  working 
his  Hps  Hke  a  rabbit?  Yes,  he  was  quite  pleased. 
"His  car!"  he  kept  murmuring,  working  his  Hps  Hke  a 
rabbit.  "I  owe  'im  more  than  a  trifle  for  things  he 
wrote  about  me.     Fll  keep  the  car." 

*  Your  Mr.  Leggatt  now  injected  some  semi-mutinous 
remarks  to  the  effect  that  he  was  your  chauffeur  in 
charge  of  your  car,  and,  as  such,  capable  of  so  acting. 
Mr.  Morshed  threw  him  a  glarnce.  It  sufficed.  Didn't 
it  suffice,  Mr.  Leggatt?' 

*I  knew  if  something  didn't  happen,  something  worse 
would,'  said  Leggatt.    *  It  never  fails  when  you're  aboard.' 
*And  Jules?'  I  demanded. 

*  Jules  was,  so  to  speak,  panicking  in  a  water-tight 
flat  through  his  unfortunate  lack  of  language.     I  had  to 


312         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

introduce  him  as  part  of  the  entente  cordiale,  and  he  was 
put  under  arrest,  too.  Then  we  sat  on  the  grass  and 
smoked,  while  Eddy  and  Co.  violently  annoyed  the 
traffic  on  the  Portsmouth  Road,  till  the  umpires,  all  in 
short  panties,  conferred  on  the  valuable  lessons  of  the 
field-day  and  added  up  points,  same  as  at  target- 
practice.  I  didn't  hear  their  conclusions,  but  our  Mr. 
Morshed  delivered  a  farewell  address  to  Eddy  and  Co., 
telHn'  'em  they  ought  to  have  deduced  from  a  hundred 
signs  about  me,  that  I  was  a  friendly  bringin'  in  dis- 
patches from  the  North.  We  left  'em  tryin'  to  find 
those  signs  in  the  Scout  book,  and  we  reached  Mr.  Mor- 
shed's  hotel  at  Portsmouth  at  6.27  p.m.  ong  automobile. 
Here  endeth  the  first  chapter.' 

*  Begin  the  second,'  I  said. 

The  uncle  and  Leggatt  had  finished  washing  up  and 
were  seated,  smoking,  while  the  damp  duster  dried  at 
the  fire. 

'About  what  time  was  it,'  said  Pyecroft  to  Leggatt, 
*when  our  Mr.  Morshed  began  to  talk  about  uncles?' 

'When  he  came  back  to  the  bar,  after  he'd  changed 
into  those  rat-catcher  clothes,'  said  Leggatt. 

*  That's  right.  "  Pye, "  said  he,  "  have  you  an  uncle  ? " 
"I  have,"  I  says.  "Here's  santy  to  him,"  and  I 
finished  my  sherry  and  bitters  to  you,  uncle.' 

'That's  right,'  said  Pyecroft's  uncle  sternly.  'If 
you  hadn't  I'd  have  belted  you  worth  rememberin', 
Emmanuel.     I  had  the  body  all  night.' 

Pyecroft  smiled  affectionately.  'So  you  'ad,  uncle, 
an'  beautifully  you  looked  after  her.     But  as  I  was 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  313 

aying,  "I  have  an  uncle,  too,"  says  Mr.  Morshed,  dark 
nd  lowering.  "Yet  somehow  I  can't  love  him.  I 
r^ant  to  mortify  the  beggar.  Volunteers  to  mortify 
ly  uncle,  one  pace  to  the  front." 

*I  took  Jules  with  me  the  regulation  distance.  Jules 
7ZS  getting  interested.  Your  Mr.  Leggatt  preserved  a 
trictly  nootral  attitude. 

"You're  a  pressed  man,"  says  our  Mr.  Morshed. 
T  owe  your  late  employer  much,  so  to  say.  The  car 
t^ill  manoeuvre  all  night,  as  requisite." 

*Mr.  Leggatt  come  out  noble  as  your  employee,  and, 
y  'Eaven's  divine  grace,  instead  of  arguing,  he  pleaded 
is  new  paint  and  varnish  which  was  Mr.  Morshed's 
ne  vital  spot  (he's  lootenant  on  one  of  the  new  catch- 
em-alive-o's  now).  "True,"  says  he,  "paint's  an  'oly 
hing.  I'll  give  you  one  hour  to  arrange  a  modus 
ivendi.  Full  bunkers  and  steam  ready  by  9  p.m. 
o-night,  if  you  please." 

*Even  so,  Mr.  Leggatt  was  far  from  content.  /  'ad 
o  arrange  the  details.  We  run  her  into  the  yard  here.' 
yecroft  nodded  through  the  window  at  my  car's 
lossy  back-panels.  *We  took  ofF  the  body  with  its 
nats  and  put  it  in  the  stable,  substitooting  (and  that 
/-ard's  a  tight  fit  for  extensive  repairs)  the  body  of 
mcle's  blue  delivery  cart.  It  overhung  a  trifle,  but 
fter  I'd  lashed  it  I  knew  it  wouldn't  fetch  loose.  Thus, 
n  our  composite  cruiser,  we  repaired  once  more  to  the 
lotel,  and  was  immediately  dispatched  to  the  toy-shop 
n  the  High  Street  where  we  took  aboard  one  rocking- 
lorse  which  was  waiting  for  us.' 


314         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Took  aboard  what?'  I  cried. 

'One  fourteen-hand  dapple-grey  rocking-horse,  wit 
pure  green  rockers  and  detachable  tail,  pair  gashly  glas 
eyes,  complete  set  'orrible  grinnin*  teeth,  and  twt 
bloody-red  nostrils  which,  protruding  from  the  browi 
papers,  produced  the  tout  ensemble  of  a  Ju-ju  sacrific 
in  the  Benin  campaign.  Do  I  make  myself  compre 
hensible?' 

'Perfectly.     Did  you  say  anything?'  I  asked. 

'Only  to  Jules.  To  him,  I  says,  wishing  to  try  him 
"Jllez  a  votre  bateau.  Je  say  mon  Lootenong.  Ee 
voo  donneray  porkzvor.'*  To  me,  says  he,  "  Fous  on{ 
ate  hurroo  !  Jamay  de  la  vee  !"  and  I  saw  by  his  ey( 
he'd  taken  on  for  the  full  term  of  the  war.  Jules  was  j 
blue-eyed,  brindle-haired  beggar  of  a  useful  make  anc 
inquirin'  habits.     Your  Mr.  Leggatt  he  only  groaned. 

Leggatt  nodded.  'It  was  like  nightmares,'  he  said 
*It  was  hke  nightmares.' 

'Once  more,  then,'  Pyecroft  swept  on,  'we  returnee 
to  the  hotel  and  partook  of  a  sumptuous  repast,  undei 
the  able  and  genial  chairmanship  of  our  Mr.  Morshed 
who  laid  his  projecks  unreservedly  before  us.  "Ii 
the  first  place,"  he  says,  opening  out  bicycle-maps 
"my  uncle,  who,  I  regret  to  say,  is  a  brigadier-general 
has  sold  his  alleged  soul  to  Dicky  Bridoon  for  a  feather] 
hat  and  a  pair  o'  gilt  spurs.  Jules,  conspuez  Voncle  !* 
So  Jules,  you'll  be  glad  to  hear ' 

'One  minute,  Pye,'  I  said.     'Who  is  Dicky  Bridoon? 

'I  don't  usually  mingle  myself  up  with  the  bickering! 
of  the  Junior  Service,  but  it  trarnspired  that  he  wai 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  3^5 

lecretary  o'  State  for  Civil  War,  an'  he'd  been  issuing 
nechanical  leather-belly  gee-gees  which  doctors  recom- 
nend  for  tumour — to  the  British  cavalry  in  loo  of  real 
neat  horses,  to  learn  to  ride  on.     Don't  you  remember 
here  was  quite  a  stir  in  the  papers  owing  to  the  cavalry 
lot  appreciatin'  'em?     But  that's  a  minor  item.     The 
nain   point  was  that  our  uncle,   in  his   capacity  of 
Drigadier-general,  mark  you,  had  wrote  to  the  papers 
lighly  approvin'  o'  Dicky  Bridoon's  mechanical  sub- 
1  stitutes  an  'ad  thus  obtained  promotion — all  same  as  a 
agnosticle  stoker  psalm-singin'  'imself  up  the  Service 
under  a  pious  captain.     At  that  point  of  the  narrative 
we  caught  a  phosphorescent  glimmer  why  the  rocking- 
horse  might  have  been  issued;  but  none  the  less  the 
navigation  was  intricate.     Omitting  the  fact  it  was  dark 
and  cloudy,  our  brigadier-vuncle  lay  somewhere  in  the 
South  Downs  with  his  brigade,  which  was  manoeuvrin' 
at  Whitsum  manoeuvres  on  a  large  scale — Red  Army 
versus  Blue,  et  cetera;  an'  all  we  'ad  to  go  by  was  those 
flapping  bicycle-maps  and  your  Mr.  Leggatt's  groans.' 
*I  was  thinking  what  the  Downs  mean  after  dark,' 
said  Leggatt  angrily. 

'They  was  worth  thinkin'  of,'  said  Pyecroft.  'When 
we  had  studied  the  map  till  it  fair  spun,  we  decided  to 
sally  forth  and  creep  for  uncle  by  hand  in  the  dark, 
dark  night,  an'  present  'im  with  the  rocking-horse. 
So  we  embarked  at  8.57  p.m.' 

'One  minute  again,  please.  How  much  did  Jules 
understand  by  that  time.?'  I  asked. 

'Sufl&cient  unto  the  day — or  night,  perhaps  I  should 


3i6         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

say.  He  told  our  Mr.  Morshed  he'd  follow  him  mot 
sang  frays,  which  is  French  for  dead,  drunk,  or  damned 
Barrin'  'is  paucity  o'  language,  there  wasn't  a  blemis! 
on  Jules.  But  what  I  wished  to  imply  was,  when  w< 
climbed  into  the  back  parts  of  the  car,  our  Lootenam 
Morshed  says  to  me,  "I  doubt  if  I'd  flick  my  cigar-endj 
about  too  lavish,  Mr.  Pyecroft.  We  ought  to  be  sitting 
on  five  pounds'  worth  of  selected  fireworks,  and  I  think 
the  rockets  are  your  end."  Not  being  able  to  smoke 
with  my  'ead  over  the  side  I  threw  it  away;  and  then 
your  Mr.  Leggatt,  'aving  been  as  nearly  mutinous  as  it 
pays  to  be  with  my  Mr.  Morshed,  arched  his  back  and 
drove.' 

*  Where  did  he  drive  to,  please?'  said  I. 

'Primerrily,  in  search  of  any  or  either  or  both  armies; 
seconderrily,  of  course,  in  search  of  our  brigadier-uncle. 
Not  finding  him  on  the  road,  we  ran  about  the  grass 
looking  for  him.  This  took  us  to  a  great  many  places 
in  a  short  time.  Ow  'eavenly  that  lilac  did  smell  on 
top  of  that  first  Down — stinkin'  its  blossomin'  little 
heart  out!' 

*I  'adn't  leesure  to  notice,'  said  Mr.  Leggatt.  *The 
Downs  were  full  o'  chalk-pits,  and  we'd  no  Hghts.' 

'We  'ad  the  bicycle-lamp  to  look  at  the  map  by. 
Didn't  you  notice  the  old  lady  at  the  window  where  we 
saw  the  man  in  the  night-gown?  I  thought  night- 
gowns as  sleepin'  rig  was  extinck,  so  to  speak. ' 

*I  tell  you  I  'adn't  leesure  to  notice,'  Leggatt  re- 
peated. 

'That's  odd.     Then  what  might  'ave  made  you  telJ 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  317 

he  sentry  at  the  first  camp  we  found  that  you  was  the 
')aily  Express  delivery-waggon?' 

*You  can't  touch  pitch  without  being  defiled,'  Leg- 
att  answered.  '  'Oo  told  the  officer  in  the  bath  we 
srere  umpires?' 

'Well,  he  asked  us.  That  was  when  we  found  the 
rerritorial  battalion  undressin'  in  slow  time.  It  lay 
^'  m  the  left  flank  o'  the  Blue  Army,  and  it  cackled  as  it 
ay,  too.  But  it  gave  us  our  position  as  regards  the 
•espective  armies.  We  wandered  a  little  more,  and  at 
[I.7  P.M.,  not  having  had  a  road  under  us  for  twenty 
ninutes,  we  scaled  the  heights  of  something  or  other — 
which  are  about  six  hundred  feet  high.  Here  we  'alted 
to  tighten  the  lashings  of  the  superstructure,  and  we 
smelt  leather  and  horses  three  counties  deep  all  round. 
We  was,  as  you  might  say,  in  the  thick  of  it.' 

*"Ah!"  says  my  Mr.  Morshed.  "My  'orizon  has 
indeed  broadened.  What  a  little  thing  is  an  uncle, 
Mr.  Pyecroft,  in  the  presence  o'  these  glitterin'  constel- 
lations! Simply  ludicrous!"  he  says,  **to  waste  a 
rocking-horse  on  an  individual.  We  must  socialise  it. 
But  we  must  get  their  'eads  up  first.  Touch  off  one 
rocket,  if  you  please." 

*I  touched  off  a  green  three-pounder  which  rose 
several  thousand  metres,  and  burst  into  gorgeous  stars. 
"Reproduce  the  manoeuvre,"  he  says,  "at  the  other  end 
o'  this  ridge — if  it  don't  end  in  another  clifF."  So  we 
steamed  down  the  ridge  a  mile  and  a  half  east,  and  then  I 
let  Jules  touch  off  a  pink  rocket,  or  he'd  ha'  kissed  me. 
That  was  his  only  way  to  express  his  emotions,  so  to 


3i8         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

speak.  Their  heads  come  up  then  all  around  us  toi 
the  extent  o'  thousands.  We  hears  bugles  like  cocks 
crowing  below,  and  on  the  top  of  it  a  most  impressive 
sound  which  Fd  never  enjoyed  before  because  'itherto 
Fd  always  been  an  inteegral  part  of  it,  so  to  say — the 
noise  of  'ole  armies  gettin'  under  arms.  They  must 
'ave  anticipated  a  night  attack,  I  imagine.  Most 
impressive.  Then  we  'eard  a  threshin'-machine.  "Tutt! 
Tutt!  This  is  childish!'*  says  Lootenant  Morshed. 
**We  can't  wait  till  they've  finished  cutting  chafF  for 
their  horses.  We  must  make  'em  understand  we're  not 
to  be  trifled  with.  Expedite  'em  with  another  rocket, 
Mr.  Pyecroft." 

*"It's  barely  possible,  sir,"  I  remarks,  "that  that's 
a  searchlight  churnin'  up,"  and  by  the  time  we  backed 
into  a  providential  chalk  cutting  (which  was  where  our 
first  tyre  went  pungo)  she  broke  out  to  the  northward, 
and  began  searching  the  ridge.     A  smart  bit  o'  work.' 

'  'Twasn't  a  puncture.  The  inner  tube  had  nipped 
because  we  skidded  so,'  Leggatt  interrupted. 

'While  your  Mr.  Leggatt  was  efFectin'  repairs, 
another  searchlight  broke  out  to  the  southward,  and  the 
two  of  'em  swept  our  ridge  on  both  sides.  Right  at  the 
west  end  of  it  they  showed  us  the  ground  rising  into  a 
hill,  so  to  speak,  crowned  with  what  looked  like  a  little 
fort.  Morshed  saw  it  before  the  beams  shut  ofF. 
"That's  the  key  of  the  position!"  he  says.  "Occupy 
it  at  all  hazards." 

*"I  haven't  half  got  occupation  for  the  next  twenty 
minutes,"  says  your  Mr.  Leggatt,  rootin'  and  bias- 


THE  HORSE  MARINES     ^  319 

^  ^^  ►hemin'  in  the  dark.     Mark,  now,  'ow  Morshed  changed 

5^Nis  tactics  to  suit  'is  environment.     "Right I''  says  he. 

^'^^  Til  stand  by  the  ship.     Mr.  Pyecroft  and  Jules,  oblige 

^^^^  ne  by  doubling  along  the  ridge  to  the  east  with  all  the 

^'^^  naroons  and  crackers  you  can  carry  without  spilling. 

'^^^  lead  the  directions  careful  for  the  maroons,  Mr.  Pye- 

:roft,   and  touch  them  off  at  half-minute  intervals. 

fules  represents  musketry  an*  maxim  fire  under  your 

:ommand.     Remember,  it's  death  or  SaHsbury  Gaol! 

rob'lyboth!" 

*By  these  means  and  some  moderately  'ard  runnin', 
e  distracted  'em  to  the  eastward.  Maroons,  you  may 
not  be  aware,  are  same  as  bombs,  with  the  anarchism 
left  out.  In  confined  spots  Hke  chalk-pits,  they  knock 
a  four-point-seven  silly.  But  you  should  read  the 
directions  before'and.  In  the  intervals  of  the  slow  but 
well-directed  fire  of  my  cow-guns,  Jules,  who  had  found 
a  sheep-pond  in  the  dark  a  little  lower  down,  gave  what 
you.  might  call  a  cinematograph  reproduction  o' 
sporadic  musketry.  They  was  large  size  crackers,  and 
he  concluded  with  the  dull,  sickenin'  thud  o'  blind  shells 
burstin'  on  soft  ground.' 

*How  did  he  manage  that?'  I  said. 
*  You  throw  a  lighted  squib  into  water  and  you'll  see,' 
said  Pyecroft.  *Thus,  then,  we  improvised  till  suppHes 
was  exhausted  and  the  surrounding  landscapes  fair 
'owled  and  'ummed  at  us.  The  Juntor  Service  might 
'ave  'ad  their  doubts  about  the  rockets  but  they 
couldn't  overlook  our  gunfire.  Both  sides  tumbled 
out  full  of  initiative.     I  told  Jules  no  two  flat-feet  'ad 


320         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

any  right  to  be  as  happy  as  us,  and  we  went  back  along 
the  ridge  to  the  derehct,  and  there  was  our  Mr.  Morshed 
apostrophin*  his  'andiwork  over  fifty  square  mile  o' 
country  with  "Attend,  all  ye  who  list  to  hear!"  out  of 
the  Fifth  Reader.  He'd  got  as  far  as  "And  roused  the 
shepherds  o'  Stonehenge,  the  rangers  o'  Beaulieu" 
when  we  come  up,  and  he  drew  our  attention  to  it^^ 
truth  as  well  as  its  beauty.  That's  rare  in  poetry,  I'm 
told.  He  went  right  on  to — "The  red  glare  on  Skiddaw 
roused  those  beggars  at  Carlisle" — which  he  pointed  out 
was  poetic  license  for  Leith  Hill.  This  allowed  your 
Mr.  Leggatt  time  to  finish  pumpin'  up  his  tyres.  I 
'eard  the  sweat  'op  oflF  his  nose.' 

*  You  know  what  it  is,  sir,'  said  poor  Leggatt  to  me. 

*It  warfted  across  my  mind,  as  I  listened  to  what  was 
trarnspirin',  that  it  might  be  easier  to  make  the  mess 
than  to  wipe  it  up,  but  such  considerations  weighed  not 
with  our  valiant  leader. 

*"Mr.  Pyecroft,"  he  says,  "it  can't  have  escaped 
your  notice  that  we  'ave  one  angry  and  'ighly  intelligent 
army  in  front  of  us,  an'  another  'ighly  angry  and  equally 
intelligent  army  in  oUr  rear.  What  'ud  you  recom- 
mend?" 

*Most  men  would  have  besought  'im  to  do  a  lateral 
glide  while  there  was  yet  time,  but  all  I  said  was :  "The 
rocking-horse  isn't  expended  yet,  sir." 

*He  laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder.  "Pye,"  says  he, 
"there's  worse  men  than  you  in  loftier  places.  They 
shall  'ave  it.  None  the  less,"  he  remarks,  "the  ice  is 
undeniably  packing." 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  321 

*I  may  'ave  omitted  to  point  out  that  at  this  juncture 
two  large  armies,  both  deprived  of  their  night's  sleep, 
was  awake,  as  you  might  say,  and  hurryin'  into  each 
other's  arms.     Here  endeth  the  second  chapter.' 

He  filled  his  pipe  slowly.  The  uncle  had  fallen  asleep. 
Leggatt  lit  another  cigarette. 

*We  then  proceeded  ong  automobile  along  the  ridge  in 
a  westerly  direction  towards  the  miniature  fort  which 
had  been  so  kindly  revealed  by  the  searchHght,  but 
which  on  inspection  (your  Mr.  Leggatt  bumped  into 
an  outlyin'  reef  of  it)  proved  to  be  a  wurzel-clump ; 
c'est'd-dire,  a  parallelogrammatic  pile  of  about  three 
million  mangold-wurzels,  brought  up  there  for  the 
sheep,  I  suppose.  On  all  sides,  excep'  the  one  we'd  come 
by,  the  ground  fell  away  moderately  quick,  and  down 
at  the  bottom  there  was  a  large  camp  lit  up  an'  full 
of  harsh  words  of  command. 

*"I  said  it  was  the  key  to  the  position,"  Lootenant 
Morshed  remarks.  **Trot  out  Persimmon!"  which  we 
rightly  took  to  read,  "Un-wrap  the  rocking-horse." 

*"Houp  la!"  says  Jules  in  a  insubordinate  tone,  an' 
slaps  Persimmon  on  the  flank. 

*" Silence!"  says  the  Lootenant.  "This  is  the  Royal 
Navy,  not  Newmarket";  and  we  carried  Persimmon  to 
the  top  of  the  mangel-wurzel  clump  as  directed. 

'Owing  to  the  inequalities  of  the  terrain  (I  do  think 
your  Mr.  Leggatt  might  have  had  a  spirit-level  in  his 
kit)  he  wouldn't  rock  free  on  the  bed-plate,  and  while 
adjustin'  him,  his  detachable  tail  fetched  adrift.  Our 
Lootenant  was  quick  to  seize  the  advantage. 


322         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*** Remove  that  transformation,"  he  says.  "Sub- 
stitute one  Roman  candle.  Gas-power  is  superior  to 
manual  propulsion." 

*So  we  substituted.  He  arranged  the  piece  de  rests- 
tarnce  in  the  shape  of  large  drums — not  saucers,  mark 
you — drums  of  coloured  fire,  with  printed  instructions, 
at  proper  distances  round  Persimmon.  There  was  a 
brief  interregnum  while  we  dug  ourselves  in  among  the 
wurzels  by  hand.  Then  he  touched  off  the  fires,  not 
omitting  the  Roman  candle,  and,  you  may  take  it  from 
me,  all  was  visible.  Persimmon  shone  out  in  his  naked 
splendour,  red  to  port,  green  to  starboard,  and  one 
white  light  at  his  bows,  as  per  Board  o'  Trade  regula- 
tions. Only  he  didn't  so  much  rock,  you  might  say, 
as  shrug  himself,  in  a  manner  of  speaking,  every  time 
the  candle  went  off.  One  can't  have  everything.  But 
the  rest  surpassed  our  highest  expectations.  I  think 
Persimmon  was  noblest  on  the  starboard  or  green  side — 
more  Hke  when  a  man  thinks  he's  seeing  mackerel  in  hell, 
don't  you  know.''  And  yet  I'd  be  the  last  to  deprecate 
the  effect  of  the  port  Hght  on  his  teeth,  or  that  blood- 
shot look  in  his  left  eye.  He  knew  there  was  something 
going  on  he  didn't  approve  of.     He  looked  worried.' 

*Did  you  laugh.?'  I  said. 

'I'm  not  much  of  a  wag  myself;  nor  it  wasn't  as  if 
we  'ad  time  to  allow  the  spectacle  to  sink  in.  The 
coloured  fires  was  supposed  to  burn  ten  minutes,  where- 
as it  was  obvious  to  the  meanest  capacity  that  the 
Junior  Service  would  arrive  by  forced  marches  in  about 
two  and  a  half.     They  grarsped  our  topical  allusion  as 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  323 

oon  as  it  was  across  the  foot-lights,  so  to  speak.     They 
vere  quite  chafed  at  it.     Of  course,  'ad  we  reflected,  we 
night  have  known  that  exposin'  illuminated  rockin'- 
lorses  to  an  army  that  was  learnin'  to  ride  on  'em  par- 
00k  of  the  nature  of  a  double  entender,  as  the  French 
ay — same  as  waggling  the  tiller  lines  at  a  man  who's 
lad  a  hanging  in  the  family.     I  knew  the  cox  of  the 
Archimandrite^ s  galley  'arf  killed  for  a  similar  plaisan- 
teree.     But   we    never    anticipated    lobsters    being   so 
sensitive.     That  was  why  we  shifted.     We  could  'ardly 
tear  our  commandin'  officer  away.     He  put  his  head  on 
one  side,  and  kept  cooin'.     The  only  thing  he  'ad  neg- 
lected to  provide  was  a  line  of  retreat;  but  your  Mr. 
Leggatt — an  'eroic  soul  in  the  last  stage  of  wet  prostra- 
tion— here  took  command  of  the  van,  or,  rather,  the 
rear-guard.     We  walked  downhill  beside  him,  holding 
on   to   the   superstructure   to   prevent   her   capsizing. 
These  technical  details,  'owever,  are  beyond  me.'     He 
waved  his  pipe  towards  Leggatt. 

*I  saw  there  was  two  deepish  ruts  leadin'  down 'ill 
somewhere,'  said  Leggatt.  *That  was  when  the  sol- 
diers stopped  laughin',  and  begun  to  run  uphill.' 

*  Stroll,  lovey,  stroll!'  Pyecroft  corrected.  'The 
Dervish  rush  took  place  later.' 

'So  I  laid  her  in  these  ruts.  That  was  where  she 
must  'ave  scraped  her  silencer  a  bit.  Then  they  turned 
sharp  right — the  ruts  did — and  then  she  stopped 
bonnet-high  in  a  manure-heap,  sir;  but  I'll  swear  it  was 
all  of  a  one  in  three  gradient.  I  think  it  was  a  barnyard. 
We  waited  there,'  said  Leggatt. 


324         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*But  not  for  long/  said  Pyecroft.  *The  lights  were 
towering  out  of  the  drums  on  the  position  we  'ad  so 
valiantly  abandoned;  and  the  Junior  Service  was  escala- 
din'  it  en  masse.  When  numerous  bodies  of  'ighly 
trained  men  arrive  simultaneous  in  the  same  latitude 
from  opposite  directions,  each  remarking  briskly, 
"What  the  'ell  did  you  do  that  for?"  detonation,  as  you 
might  say,  is  practically  assured.  They  didn't  ask  for 
extraneous  aids.  If  we'd  come  out  with  sworn  affidavits 
of  what  we'd  done  they  wouldn't  'ave  believed  us. 
They  wanted  each  other's  company  exclusive.  Such 
was  the  effect  of  Persimmon  on  their  clarss  feelings. 
Idol  'try,  /  call  it !  Events  transpired  with  the  utmost 
velocity  and  rapidly  increasing  pressures.  There  was  a 
few  remarks  about  Dicky  Bridoon  and  mechanical 
horses,  and  then  some  one  was  smacked — hard  by  the 
sound — in  the  middle  of  a  remark.' 

*That  was  the  man  who  kept  calling  for  the  Forty- 
fifth  Dragoons,'  said  Leggatt.  *He  got  as  far  as 
Drag     .     .     .' 

*Was  it?'  said  Pyecroft  dreamily.  *Well,  he  couldn't 
say  they  didn't  come.  They  all  came,  and  they  all  fell 
to  arguin'  whether  the  Infantry  should  'ave  Persimmon 
for  a  regimental  pet  or  the  Cavalry  should  keep  him  for 
stud  purposes.  Hence  the  issue  was  soon  clouded  with 
mangold-wurzels.  Our  commander  said  we  'ad  sowed 
the  good  seed,  and  it  was  bearing  abundant  fruit. 
(They  weigh  between  four  and  seven  pounds  apiece.) 
Seein'  the  children  'ad  got  over  their  shyness,  and  'ad 
really  begun  to  play  games,  we  backed  out  o'  the  pit 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  325 

md  went  down,  by  steps,  to  the  camp  below,  no  man,  as 
^ou  might  say,  making  us  afraid.  Here  we  enjoyed  a 
Tont  view  of  the  battle,  which  rolled  with  renewed 
mpetus,  owing  to  both  sides  receiving  strong  reinforce- 
nents  every  minute.     All  arms  were  freely  represented; 

avalry,  on  this  occasion  only,  acting  in  concert  with 
Artillery.  They  argued  the  relative  merits  of  horses 
rersus  feet,  so  to  say,  but  they  didn't  neglect  Persimmon. 
The  wounded  rolling  downhill  with  the  wurzels  in- 
formed us  that  he  had  long  ago  been  socialised,  and  the 
mallest  souvenirs  were  w^orth  a  man's  life.  Speaking 
)roadly,  the  Junior  Service  appeared  to  be  a  shade  out 
)f  'and,  if  I  may  venture  so  far.  They  did  not  pay 
prompt  and  unhesitating  obedience  to  the  "Retires" 
Dr  the  "Cease  Fires"  or  the  "For  'Eaven's  sake  come 
to  bed,  ducky"  of  their  officers,  who,  I  regret  to  say, 
were  'otly  embroiled  at  the  heads  of  their  respective 
units.' 

*How  did  you  find  that  out.?'  I  asked. 

*0n  account  of  Lootenant  Morshed  going  to  the  Mess 
tent  to  call  on  his  uncle  and  raise  a  drink;  but  all  hands 
lad  gone  to  the  front.  We  thought  we  'eard  somebody 
bathing  behind  the  tent,  and  we  found  an  oldish  gentle- 
man tryin'  to  drown  a  boy  in  knickerbockers  in  a  horse- 
trough.  He  kept  him  under  with  a  bicycle,  so  to  speak. 
H[e  'ad  nearly  accomplished  his  fell  design,  when  we 
frustrated  him.  He  was  in  a  highly  malleable  condition 
and  full  o'  juice  de  spree.  "Arsk  not  what  I  am,"  he 
says.  "My  wife  '11  tell  me  that  quite  soon  enough. 
Arsk  rather  what  I've  been,"  he  says.     "I've  been 


326         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

dinin*  here,"  he  says.  "I  commanded  'em  in  th 
Eighties,"  he  says,  "and.  Gawd  forgive  me,"  he  sayj 
sobbin'  'eavily,  "Fve  spent  this  holy  evening  tellin 
their  Colonel  they  was  a  set  of  educated  inefficient^ 
Hark  to  'em!"  We  could,  without  strainin'  ourselves 
but  how  he  picked  up  the  gentle  murmur  of  his  ow: 
corps  in  that  on-the-knee  party  up  the  hill  I  don't  know 
"They've  marched  and  fought  thirty  mile  to-day,"  h 
shouts,  "and  now  they're  tearin'  the  mttstines  out  c 
the  Cavalry  up  yonder!  They  won't  stop  this  side  th 
gates  o'  Delhi,"  he  says.  "I  commanded  their  ances 
tors.  There's  nothing  wrong  with  the  Service,"  he  sayj 
wringing  out  his  trousers  on  his  lap.  "  'Eaven  pardo 
me  for  doubtin'  'em!  Same  old  game — same  youn 
beggars." 

*The  boy  in  the  knickerbockers,  languishing  on 
chair,  puts  in  a  claim  for  one  drink.  "Let  him  go  dry, 
says  our  friend  in  shirt-tails.  "He's  a  reporter.  H 
run  into  me  on  his  filthy  bicycle  and  he  asked  me  if 
could  furnish  'im  with  particulars  about  the  mutiny  i 
the  Army.  You  false- 'earted  proletarian  publicist, 
he  says,  shakin'  his  finger  at  'im — for  he  was  reelly  ar 
noyed — "I'll  teach  you  to  defile  what  you  can't  compre 
hendl  When  my  regiment's  in  a  state  o'  mutiny,  I'] 
do  myself  the  honour  of  informing  you  personall}/ 
You  particularly  ignorant  and  very  narsty  little  man,' 
he  says,  "you're  no  better  than  a  dhobi's  donkey!  I 
there  wasn't  dirty  linen  to  wash,  you'd  starve,"  he  says 
"and  why  I  haven't  drowned  you  will  be  the  lastin 
regret  of  my  life." 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  327 

'Well,  we  sat  with  'em  and  'ad  drinks  for  about  half- 
an-hour  in  front  of  the  Mess  tent.  He'd  ha'  killed  the 
reporter  if  there  hadn't  been  witnesses,  and  the  reporter 
might  have  taken  notes  of  the  battle;  so  we  acted  as 
two-way  buffers,  in  a  sense.  I  don't  hold  with  the  Press 
mingling  up  with  Service  matters.  They  draw  false 
conclusions.  Now,  mark  you,  at  a  moderate  estimate, 
there  were  seven  thousand  men  in  the  fighting  line, 
half  of  'em  hurt  in  their  professional  feehngs,  an'  the 
other  half  rubbin'  in  the  Hniment,  as  you  might  say. 
All  due  to  Persimmon!  If  you  'adn't  seen  it  you 
wouldn't  'ave  believed  it.  And  yet,  mark  you,  not 
one  single  unit  of  'em  even  resorted  to  his  belt.  They 
confined  themselves  to  natural  producks — hands  and 
the  wurzels.  I  thought  Jules  was  havin'  fits,  till  it 
trarnspired  the  same  thought  had  impressed  him  in  the 
French  language.  He  called  it  incroyahle,  I  believe. 
Seven  thousand  men,  with  seven  thousand  rifles,  belts, 
and  bayonets,  in  a  violently  agitated  condition,  and  not 
a  ungenteel  blow  struck  from  first  to  last.  The  old 
gentleman  drew  our  attention  to  it  as  well.  It  was 
quite  noticeable. 

'Lack  of  ammunition  was  the  primerry  cause  of  the 
battle  ceasin'.  A  Brigade-Major  came  in,  wipin'  his 
nose  on  both  cuffs,  and  sayin'  he  'ad  'ad  snuff.  The 
brigadier-uncle  followed.  He  was,  so  to  speak,  sneezin'. 
We  thought  it  best  to  shift  our  moorings  without  at- 
tractin'  attention;  so  we  shifted.  They  'ad  called  the 
cows  'ome  by  then.  The  Junior  Service  was  going  to 
bye-bye  all  round  us,  as  happy  as  the  ship's  monkey 


328         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

when  he's  been  playin'  with  the  paints,  and  Lootenant 
Morshed  and  Jules  kept  bowin'  to  port  and  starboard 
of  the  superstructure,  acknowledging  the  unstinted  ap- 
plause which  the  multitude  would  'ave  given  'em  if 
they'd  known  the  facts.  On  the  other  'and,  as  your 
Mr.  Leggatt  observed,  they  might  'ave  killed  us. 

'That  would  have  been  about  five  bells  in  the  middle 
watch,  say  half-past  two.  A  well-spent  evening. 
There  was  but  Httle  to  be  gained  by  entering  Ports- 
mouth at  that  hour,  so  we  turned  off  on  the  grass  (this 
was  after  we  had  found  a  road  under  us),  and  we  cast 
anchors  out  at  the  stern  and  prayed  for  the  day. 

*But  your  Mr.  Leggatt  he  had  to  make  and  mend 
tyres  all  our  watch  below.  It  trarnspired  she  had  been 
running  on  the  rim  o'  two  or  three  wheels,  which,  very 
properly,  he  hadn't  reported  till  the  close  of  the  action. 
And  that's  the  reason  of  your  four  new  tyres.  Mr. 
Morshed  was  of  opinion  you'd  earned  'em.  Do  you 
dissent  ? ' 

I  stretched  out  my  hand,  which  Pyecroft  crushed  to 
pulp.  *No,  Pye,'  I  said,  deeply  moved,  *I  agree  en- 
tirely.    But  what  happened  to  Jules?' 

*We  returned  him  to  his  own  Navy  after  breakfast. 
He  wouldn't  have  kept  much  longer  without  some  one 
in  his  own  language  to  tell  it  to.  I  don't  know  any 
man  I  ever  took  more  compassion  on  than  Jules.  'Is 
sufferings  swelled  him  up  centimetres,  and  all  he  could 
do  on  the  Hard  was  to  kiss  Lootenant  Morshed  and  me, 
and  your  Mr.  Leggatt.  He  deserved  that  much.  A 
cordial  beggar.' 


THE  HORSE  MARINES  329 

Pyecroft  looked  at  the  washed  cups  on  the  table,  and 
he  low  sunshine  on  my  car's  back  in  the  yard. 

*  Too  early  to  drink  to  him/  he  said.  *But  I  feel  it 
ust  the  same.' 

The  uncle,  sunk  in  his  chair,  snored  a  little;  the 
anary  answered  with  a  shrill  lullaby.  Pyecroft  picked 
ip  the  duster,  threw  it  over  the  cage,  put  his  finger  to 
lis  lips,  and  we  tiptoed  out  into  the  shop,  while  Leggatt 
)rought  the  car  round. 

*ril  look  out  for  the  news  in  the  papers,'  I  said,  as  I 
;ot  in. 

*0h,  we  short-circuited  that!  Nothing  trarnspired 
ixcep'  a  statement  to  the  effect  that  some  Territorial 
)attalions  had  played  about  with  turnips  at  the  con- 
:lusion  of  the  manoeuvres  The  taxpayer  don't  know 
ill  he  gets  for  his  money.     Farewell!' 

We  moved  off  just  in  time  to  be  blocked  by  a  regi- 
Tient  coming  towards  the  station  to  entrain  for  London. 

*Beg  your  pardon,  sir,'  said  a  sergeant  in  charge  of 
:he  baggage,  *but  would  you  mind  backin'  a  bit  till  we 
yet  the  waggons  past?' 

'Certainly,'  I  said.  *You  don't  happen  to  have  a 
rocking-horse  among  your  kit,  do  you  ? ' 

The  rattle  of  our  reverse  drowned  his  answer,  but  I 
saw  his  eyes.  One  of  them  was  blackish-green,  about 
four  days  old. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  MIRTH 

The  Four  Archangels,  so  the  legends  tell, 
Raphael,  Gabriel,  Michael,  Azrael, 
Being  first  of  those  to  whom  the  Power  was  shown, 
Stood  first  of  all  the  Host  before  The  Throne, 
And  when  the  Charges  were  allotted  burst 
Tumultuous-winged  from  out  the  assembly  first. 
Zeal  was  their  spur  that  bade  them  strictly  heed 
Their  own  high  judgment  on  their  lightest  deed. 
Zeal  was  their  spur  that,  when  relief  was  given. 
Urged  them  unwearied  to  fresh  toil  in  Heaven; 
For  Honour's  sake  perfecting  every  task 
Beyond  what  e'en  Perfection's  self  could  ask.     .     . 
And  Allah,  Who  created  Zeal  and  Pride, 
Knows  how  the  twain  are  perilous-near  allied. 


It  chanced  on  one  of  Heaven's  long-lighted  days. 
The  Four  and  all  the  Host  having  gone  their  ways 
Each  to  his  Charge,  the  shining  Courts  were  void 
Save  for  one  Seraph  whom  no  charge  employed, 
With  folden  wings  and  slumber-threatened  brow. 
To  whom  The  Word:     'Beloved,  what  dost  thou?* 
*By  the  Permission,'  came  the  answer  soft, 
'Little  I  do  nor  do  that  little  oft. 
As  is  The  Will  in  Heaven  so  on  Earth 

330 


THE  LEGEND  OF  MIRTH  331 

Where  by  The  Will  I  strive  to  make  men  mirth.' 
He  ceased  and  sped,  hearing  The  Word  once  more: 
'Beloved,  go  thy  way  and  greet  the  Four/ 

Systems  and  Universes  overpast, 

The  Seraph  came  upon  the  Four,  at  last. 

Guiding  and  guarding  with  devoted  mind 

The  tedious  generations  of  mankind 

Who  lent  at  most  unwilling  ear  and  eye 

When  they  could  not  escape  the  ministry.     .     .     . 

Yet,  patient,  faithful,  firm,  persistent,  just 

Toward  all  that  gross,  indifferent,  facile  dust. 

The  Archangels  laboured  to  discharge  their  trust 

By  precept  and  example,  prayer  and  law, 

Advice,  reproof,  and  rule,  but,  labouring,  saw 

Each  in  his  fellow's  countenance  confessed. 

The  Doubt  that  sickens:     'Have  I  done  my  best?' 

Even  as  they  sighed  and  turned  to  toil  anew. 
The  Seraph  hailed  them  with  observance  due; 
And  after  some  fit  talk  of  higher  things 
Touched  tentative  on  mundane  happenings. 
This  they  permitting,  he,  emboldened  thus, 
Prolused  of  humankind  promiscuous. 
And,  since  the  large  contention  less  avails 
Than  instances  observed,  he  told  them  tales — 
Tales  of  the  shop,  the  bed,  the  court,  the  street, 
Intimate,  elemental,  indiscreet: 
Occasions  where  Confusion  smiting  swift 
Piles  jest  on  jest  as  snow-slides  pile  the  drift 


332         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Whence,  one  by  one,  beneath  derisive  skies. 

The  victims  bare,  bewildered  heads  arise : 

Tales  of  the  passing  of  the  spirit,  graced 

With  humour  blinding  as  the  doom  it  faced: 

Stark  tales  of  ribaldry  that  broke  aside 

To  tears,  by  laughter  swallowed  ere  they  dried: 

Tales  to  which  neither  grace  nor  gain  accrue, 

But  only  (Allah  be  exalted !)  true. 

And  only,  as  the  Seraph  showed  that  night, 

Delighting  to  the  limits  of  delight. 

These  he  rehearsed  with  artful  pause  and  halt. 
And  such  pretence  of  memory  at  fault. 
That  soon  the  Four — so  well  the  bait  was  thrown- 
Came  to  his  aid  with  memories  of  their  own — 
Matters  dismissed  long  since  as  small  or  vain. 
Whereof  the  high  significance  had  lain 
Hid,  till  the  ungirt  glosses  made  it  plain. 
Then  as  enUghtenment  came  broad  and  fast, 
Each  marvelled  at  his  own  obUvious  past 
Until — the  Gates  of  Laughter  opened  wide— 
The  Four,  with  that  bland  Seraph  at  their  side. 
While  they  recalled,  compared,  and  amplified. 
In  utter  mirth  forgot  both  zeal  and  pride. 

High  over  Heaven  the  lamps  of  midnight  burned 
Ere,  weak  with  merriment,  the  Four  returned. 
Not  in  that  order  they  were  wont  to  keep — 
Pinion  to  pinion  answering,  sweep  for  sweep, 
In  awful  diapason  heard  afar. 


THE  LEGEND  OF  MIRTH  333 

But  shoutingly  adrift  'twixt  star  and  star. 

Reeling  a  planet's  orbit  left  or  right 

As  laughter  took  them  in  the  abysmal  Night; 

Or,  by  the  point  of  some  remembered  jest, 

Winged  and  brought  helpless  down  through  gulfs  un- 

guessed. 
Where  the  blank  worlds  that  gather  to  the  birth 
Leaped  in  the  womb  of  Darkness  at  their  mirth, 
And  e'en  Gehenna's  bondsmen  understood. 
They  were  not  damned  from  human  brotherhood. 

Not  first  nor  last  of  Heaven's  high  Host,  the  Four 

That  night  took  place  beneath  The  Throne  once  more. 

O  lovelier  than  their  morning  majesty. 

The  understanding  light  behind  the  eye! 

O  more  compelling  than  their  old  command. 

The  new-learned  friendly  gesture  of  the  hand ! 

O  sweeter  than  their  zealous  fellowship. 

The  wise  half-smile  that  passed  from  lip  to  lip! 

O  well  and  roundly,  when  Command  was  given. 

They  told  their  tale  against  themselves  to  Heaven, 

And  in  the  silence,  waiting  on  The  Word, 

Received  the  Peace  and  Pardon  of  The  Lord ! 


•My  Son's  Wife' 

(1913) 

:Ie  had  suffered  from  the  disease  of  the  century  since 
lis  early  youth,  and  before  he  was  thirty  he  was  heavily 
narked  with  it.  He  and  a  few  friends  had  rearranged 
Fleaven  very  comfortably,  but  the  reorganisation  of 
Earth,  which  they  called  Society,  was  even  greater  fun. 
[t  demanded  Work  in  the  shape  of  many  taxi-rides 
iaily;  hours  of  brilliant  talk  with  brilliant  talkers;  some 
jparkling  correspondence;  a  few  silences  (but  on  the 
understanding  that  their  own  turn  should  come  soon) 
while  other  people  expounded  philosophies;  and  a  fair 
number  of  picture-galleries,  tea-fights,  concerts,  theatres, 
music-halls,  and  cinema  shows;  the  whole  trimmed  with 
love-making  to  women  whose  hair  smelt  of  cigarette- 
smoke.  Such  strong  days  sent  Frankwell  Midmore 
back  to  his  flat  assured  that  he  and  his  friends  had 
helped  the  World  a  step  nearer  the  Truth,  the  Dawn, 
and  the  New  Order. 

His  temperament,  he  said,  led  him  more  towards 
concrete  data  than  abstract  ideas.  People  who  in- 
vestigate detail  are  apt  to  be  tired  at  the  day's  end. 
The  same  temperament,  or  it  may  have  been  a  woman, 
made  him  early  attach  himself  to  the  Immoderate  Left 
of  his  Cause  in  the  capacity  of  an  experimenter  in 

335 


336         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Social  Relations.  And  since  the  Immoderate  Left  con 
tains  plenty  of  women  anxious  to  help  earnest  inquirer: 
with  large  independent  incomes  to  arrive  at  evaluation! 
of  essentials,  Frankwell  Midmore's  lot  was  far  fron 
contemptible. 

At  that  hour  Fate  chose  to  play  with  him.  / 
widowed  aunt,  widely  separated  by  nature,  and  mon 
widely  by  marriage,  from  all  that  Midmore's  mothe: 
had  ever  been  or  desired  to  be,  died  and  left  him  posses 
sions.  Mrs.  Midmore,  having  that  summer  embraced  : 
creed  which  denied  the  existence  of  death,  naturally 
could  not  stoop  to  burial;  but  Midmore  had  to  leav( 
London  for  the  dank  country  at  a  season  when  Socia 
Regeneration  works  best  through  long,  cushioned  con 
ferences,  two  by  two,  after  tea.  There  he  faced  th< 
bracing  ritual  of  the  British  funeral,  and  was  wept  ai 
across  the  raw  grave  by  an  elderly  coffin-shaped  femah 
with  a  long  nose,  who  called  him  *  Master  Frankie' 
and  there  he  was  congratulated  behind  an  echoing  top- 
hat  by  a  man  he  mistook  for  a  mute,  who  turned  out 
to  be  his  aunt's  lawyer.  He  wrote  his  mother  next  day 
after  a  bright  account  of  the  funeral : 

*So  far  as  I  can  understand,  she  has  left  me  betweer 
four  and  five  hundred  a  year.  It  all  comes  from  Thei 
Land,  as  they  call  it  down  here.  The  unspeakable 
attorney,  Sperrit,  and  a  green-eyed  daughter,  who  humj 
to  herself  as  she  tramps  but  is  silent  on  all  subjects 
except  "hunting"  insisted  on  taking  me  to  see  it.  Thei 
Land  is  brown  and  green  in  alternate  slabs  like  chocolate 
and  pistachio  cakes,  speckled  with  occasional  peasants 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  337 

vho  do  not  utter.  In  case  it  should  not  be  wet  enough 
:here  is  a  wet  brook  in  the  middle  of  it.  Ther  House 
s  by  the  brook.  I  shall  look  into  it  later.  If  there 
;hould  be  any  little  memento  of  Jenny  that  you  care 
'or,  let  me  know.  Didn't  you  tell  me  that  mid-Victof- 
an  furniture  is  coming  into  the  market  again .?  Jenny's 
Did  maid — it  is  called  Rhoda  Dolbie — tells  me  that 
Jenny  promised  it  thirty  pounds  a  year.  The  will  does 
not.  Hence,  I  suppose,  the  tears  at  the  funeral.  But 
that  is  close  on  ten  per  cent,  of  the  income.  I  fancy 
Jenny  has  destroyed  all  her  private  papers  and  records 
of  her  vie  intime,  if,  indeed,  Hfe  be  possible  in  such  a 
place.  The  Sperrit  man  told  me  that  if  I  had  means  of 
my  own  I  might  come  and  live  on  Ther  Land.  I  didn't 
tell  him  how  much  I  would  pay  not  to!  I  cannot  think 
it  right  that  any  human  being  should  exercise  mastery 
over  others  in  the  merciless  fashion  our  tom-fool  social 
system  permits;  so,  as  it  is  all  mine,  I  intend  to 
sell  it  whenever  the  unholy  Sperrit  can  find  a  pur- 
chaser.' 

And  he  went  to  Mr.  Sperrit  with  the  idea  next  day, 
just  before  returning  to  town. 

*  Quite  so,'  said  the  lawyer.  *I  see  your  point,  of 
course.  But  the  house  itself  is  rather  old-fashioned — 
hardly  the  type  purchasers  demand  nowadays.  There's 
no  park,  of  course,  and  the  bulk  of  the  land  is  let  to  a 
life-tenant,  a  Mr.  Sidney.  As  long  as  he  pays  his  rent, 
he  can't  be  turned  out,  and  even  if  he  didn't' — Mr. 
Sperrit's  face  relaxed  a  shade — 'you  might  have  a 
difficulty.' 


338         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'The  property  brings  four  hundred  a  year,  I  under, 
stand,'  said  Midmore. 

*Well,  hardly — ha-ardly.  Deducting  land  and  in- 
come tax,  tithes,  fire  insurance,  cost  of  collection  anc 
repairs  of  course,  it  returned  two  hundred  and  eighty- 
four  pounds  last  year.  The  repairs  are  rather  a  larg< 
item — owing  to  the  brook.  I  call  it  Liris — out  o 
Horace,  you  know.' 

Midmore  looked  at  his  watch  impatiently. 

'I  suppose  you  can  find  somebody  to  buy  it?'  \u 
repeated. 

'We  will  do  our  best,  of  course,  if  those  are  youi 
instructions.  Then,  that  is  all  except' — here  Midmon 
half  rose,  but.Mr.  Sperrit's  little  grey  eyes  held  his  larg< 
brown  ones  firmly — 'except  about  Rhoda  Dolbie,  Mrs 
Werf's  maid.  I  may  tell  you  that  we  did  not  draw  uj 
your  aunt's  last  will.  She  grew  secretive  towards  th( 
last — elderly  people  often  do — and  had  it  done  in  Lon 
don.  I  expect  her  memory  failed  her,  or  she  mislaic 
her  notes.  She  used  to  put  them  in  her  spectacle-case 
.  .  .  My  motor  only  takes  eight  minutes  to  get  t( 
the  station,  Mr.  Midmore  .  .  .  but,  as  I  was  say 
ing,  whenever  she  made  her  will  with  us,  Mrs.  Wer 
always  left  Rhoda  thirty  pounds  per  annum.  Charlie 
the  wills!'  A  clerk  with  a  baldish  head  and  a  lon^ 
nose  dealt  documents  on  to  the  table  Hke  cards,  anc 
breathed  heavily  behind  Midmore.  'It's  in  no  sens( 
a  legal  obHgation,  of  course,'  said  Mr.  Sperrit.  'Ah 
that  one  is  dated  January  the  nth,  eighteen  eighty 
nine.' 


'MY  SON^S  WIFE'  -  339 

Midmore  looked  at  his  watch  again  and  found  himself 
lying  with  no  good  grace:  *Well,  I  suppose  she'd 
etter  have  it — for  the  present  at  any  rate.' 

He  escaped  with  an  uneasy  feeUng  that  two  hundred 
[id  fifty-four  pounds  a  year  was  not  exactly  four 
undred,  and  that  Charlie's  long  nose  annoyed  him. 
hen  he  returned,  first-class,  to  his  own  affairs. 

Of  the  two,  perhaps  three,  experiments  in  Social 
I^elations  which  he  had  then  in  hand,  one  interested  him 
cutely.  It  had  run  for  some  months  and  promised 
lost  variegated  and  interesting  developments,  on  which 
e  dwelt  luxuriously  all  the  way  to  town.  When  he 
eached  his  flat  he  was  not  well  prepared  for  a  twelve- 
age  letter  explaining,  in  the  diction  of  the  Immoderate 
.eft  which  rubricates  its  Vs  and  illuminates  its  T's, 
hat  the  lady  had  realised  greater  attractions  in  another 
loul.  She  re-stated,  rather  than  pleaded,  the  gospel 
f  the  Immoderate  Left  as  her  justification,  and  ended 
1  an  impassioned  demand  for  her  right  to  express  her- 
elf  in  and  on  her  own  life,  through  which,  she  pointed 
►ut,  she  could  pass  but  once.  She  added  that  if,  later, 
he  should  discover  Midmore  was  'essentially  comple- 
nentary  to  her  needs,'  she  would  tell  him  so.  That 
Midmore  had  himself  written  much  the  same  sort  of 
jpistle — barring  the  hint  of  return — to  a  woman  of 
vhom  his  needs  for  self-expression  had  caused  him  to 
veary  three  years  before,  did  not  assist  him  in  the  least, 
rie  expressed  himself  to  the  gas-fire  in  terms  essential 
3ut  not  complimentary.  Then  he  reflected  on  the 
ietached  criticism  of  his  best  friends  and  her  best  friends. 


340         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

male  and  female,  with  whom  he  and  she  and  others  had 
talked  so  openly  while  their  gay  adventure  was  in 
flower.  He  recalled,  too — this  must  have  been  about 
midnight — her  analysis  from  every  angle,  remote  and 
most  intimate,  of  the  mate  to  whom  she  had  been 
adjudged  under  the  base  convention  which  is  styled 
marriage.  Later,  at  that  bad  hour  when  the  cattle 
wake  for  a  Httle,  he  remembered  her  in  other  aspects  and 
went  down  into  the  hell  appointed;  desolate,  desiring, 
with  no  God  to  call  upon.  About  eleven  o'clock  next 
morning  Eliphaz  the  Temanite,  Bildad  the  Shuhite, 
and  Zophar  the  Naamathite  called  upon  him  *for  they 
had  made  appointment  together'  to  see  how  he  took 
it;  but  the  janitor  told  them  that  Job  had  gone — into 
the  country,  he  believed. 

Midmore's  relief  when  he  found  his  story  was  not 
written  across  his  aching  temples  for  Mr.  Sperrit  to 
read — the  defeated  lover,  like  the  successful  one,  be- 
lieves all  earth  privy  to  his  soul — ^was  put  down  by  Mr. 
Sperrit  to  quite  different  causes.  He  led  him  into  a 
morning-room.  The  rest  of  the  house  seemed  to  be  full 
of  people,  singing  to  a  loud  piano  idiotic  songs  about 
cows,  and  the  hall  smelt  of  damp  cloaks. 

'It's  our  evening  to  take  the  winter  cantata,'  Mr. 
Sperrit  explained.  *It's  "High  Tide  on  the  Coast  of 
Lincolnshire."  I  hoped  you'd  come  back.  There  are 
scores  of  little  things  to  settle.  As  for  the  house,  of 
course,  it  stands  ready  for  you  at  any  time.  I  couldn't 
get  Rhoda  out  of  it — nor  could  CharHe  for  that  matter. 
She's  the  sister,  isn't  she,  of  the  nurse  who  brought  you 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  341 

down  here  when  you  were  four,  she  says,  to  recover  from 
measles  ? ' 

*Is  she?  Was  I?*  said  Midmore  through  the  bad 
tastes  in  his  mouth.  *D'you  suppose  I  could  stay  there 
the  night?' 

Thirty  joyous  young  voices  shouted  appeal  to  some 
one  to  leave  their  *  pipes  of  parsley  'ollow — 'ollow — 
'ollow!'  Mr.  Sperrit  had  to  raise  his  voice  above  the 
din. 

*  Well,  if  I  asked  you  to  stay  here,  I  should  never  Tiear 
the  last  of  it  from  Rhoda.  She's  a  little  cracked,  of 
course,  but  the  soul  of  devotion  and  capable  of  anything. 
Ne  sit  ancillae,  you  know.' 

*  Thank  you.  Then  I'll  go.  I'll  walk.'  He  stum- 
bled out  dazed  and  sick  into  the  winter  twilight,  and 
sought  the  square  house  by  the  brook. 

It  was  not  a  dignified  entry,  because  when  the  door 
was  unchained  and  Rhoda  exclaimed,  he  took  two 
valiant  steps  into  the  hall  and  then  fainted — as  men 
sometimes  will  after  twenty-two  hours  of  strong  emo- 
tion and  little  food. 

'I'm  sorry,'  he  said  when  he  could  speak.  He  was 
lying  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  his  head  on  Rhoda's  lap. 

'Your  'ome  is  your  castle,  sir,'  was  the  reply  in  his 
hair.  *I  smelt  it  wasn't  drink.  You  lay  on  the  sofa 
till  I  get  your  supper.' 

She  settled  him  in  a  drawing-room  hung  with  yellow 
silk,  heavy  with  the  smell  of  dead  leaves  and  oil  lamp. 
Something  murmured  soothingly  in  the  background 
and  overcame  the  noises  in  his  head.     He  thought  he 


342         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

heard  horses'  feet  on  wet  gravel  and  a  voice  singing 
about  ships  and  flocks  and  grass.  It  passed  close  to  th( 
shuttered  bay-window. 

But  each  will  mourn  his  own,  she  saith. 
And  sweeter  woman  ne'er  drew  breath 
Than  my  son's  wife,  EHzabeth     .     .     . 
Cusha — cusha — cusha — calling. 

The  hoofs  broke  into  a  canter  as  Rhoda  entered  wit! 
the  tray.  'And  then  Fll  put  you  to  bed/  she  said 
'Sidney's  coming  in  the  morning.'  Midmore  asked  n( 
questions.  He  dragged  his  poor  bruised  soul  to  bee 
and  would  have  pitied  it  all  over  again,  but  the  foo< 
and  warm  sherry  and  water  drugged  him  to  instan 
sleep. 

Rhoda's  voice  wakened  him,  asking  whether  hi 
would  have  "ip,  foot,  or  sitz,'  which  he  understoo( 
were  the  baths  of  the  estabHshment.  'Suppose  yoi 
try  all  three,'  she  suggested.  'They're  all  yours,  yoi 
know,  sir.' 

He  would  have  renewed  his  sorrows  with  the  day 
Hght,  but  her  words  struck  him  pleasantly.  Everythinj 
his  eyes  opened  upon  was  his  very  own  to  keep  for  ever 
The  carved  four-post  Chippendale  bed,  obviousl; 
worth  hundreds;  the  wavy  walnut  William  and  Mar 
chairs — he  had  seen  worse  ones  labelled  twenty  guinea 
apiece;  the  oval  medallion  mirror;  the  delicate  eigh 
teenth-century  wire  fireguard;  the  heavy  brocaded  cur 
tains  were  his — all  his.  So,  too,  a  great  garden  full  o 
birds  that  faced  him  when  he  shaved;  a  mulberry  tree 
a  sun-dial,  and  a  dull,  steel-coloured  brook  that  mur 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE*  343 

ured  level  with  the  edge  of  a  lawn  a  hundred  yards 
vay.     Peculiarly  and  privately  his  own  was  the  smell 

sausages  and  coffee  that  he  sniffed  at  the  head  of  the 
ide  square  landing,  all  set  round  with  mysterious  doors 
id    Bartolozzi    prints.     He    spent    two    hours    after 

eakfast  in  exploring  his  new  possessions.  His  heart 
aped  up  at  such  things  as  sewing-machines,  a  rubber- 
rred  bath-chair  in  a  tiled  passage,  a  malachite-headed 
[alacca  cane,  boxes  and  boxes  of  unopened  stationery, 
;al-rings,  bunches  of  keys,  and  at  the  bottom  of  a 
eel-net  reticule  a  little  leather  purse  with  seven  pounds 
in  shillings  in  gold  and  eleven  shillings  in  silver. 

*You  used  to  play  with  that  when  my  sister  brought 
ou  down  here  after  your  measles,'  said  Rhoda  as  he 
ipped  the  money  into  his  pocket.  *Now,  this  was 
our  pore  dear  auntie's  business-room.'  She  opened  a 
)w  door.     *0h,  I  forgot  about  Mr.  Sidney!    There  he 

'    An  enormous  old  man  with  rheumy  red  eyes  that 

inked  under  downy  white  eyebrows  sat  in  an  Empire 

hair,  his  cap  in  his  hands.     Rhoda  withdrew  sniffing. 

he  man  looked  Midmore  over  in  silence,  then  jerked 

thumb  towards  the  door.  'I  reckon  she  told  you 
^ho  I  be,'  he  began.     'I'm  the  only  farmer  you've  got. 

othin'  goes  off  my  place  'thout  it  walks  on  its  own 
eet.     What  about  my  pig-pound?' 

*Well,  what  about  it.?'  said  Midmore. 

'That's  just  what  I  be  come  about.  The  County 
ouncils  are  getting  more  particular.  Did  ye  know 
here  was  swine  fever  at  Pashell's  ?  There  be.  It'll  'ave 
o  be  in  brick.* 


344         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*Yes/  said  Midmore  politely. 

*rve  bin  at  your  aunt  that  was,  plenty  times  aboi 
it.  I  don't  say  she  wasn't  a  just  woman,  but  she  didn 
read  the  lease  same  way  I  did.  I  be  used  to  bein'  pi 
upon,  but  there's  no  doing  any  longer  'thout  th: 
pig-pound.' 

'When   would    you    like   it?'    Midmore   asked, 
seemed  the  easiest  road  to  take. 

*Any  time  or  other  suits  me,  I  reckon.  He  ain 
thrivin'  where  he  is,  an'  I  paid  eighteen  shillin'  for  him 
He  crossed  his  hands  on  his  stick  and  gave  no  furth( 
sign  of  life. 

'Is  that  all?'  Midmore  stammered. 

*A11  now — excep" — he  glanced  fretfully  at  the  tab 
beside  him — *  excep'  my  usuals.     Where's  that  Rhoda 

Midmore  rang  the  bell.  Rhoda  came  in  with 
bottle  and  a  glass.  The  old  man  helped  himself  1 
four  stiff  fingers,  rose  in  one  piece,  and  stumped  ou 
At  the  door  he  cried  ferociously:  'Don't  suppose  it 
any  odds  to  you  whether  I'm  drowned  or  not,  but  thei 
floodgates  want  a  wheel  and  winch,  they  do.  I  be  tc 
old  for  liftin'  'em  with  the  bar — my  time  o'  life.' 

'Good  riddance  if  'e  was  drowned,'  said  Rhod; 
'  But  don't  you  mind  him.  He's  only  amusin'  himsel 
Your  pore  dear  auntie  used  to  give  'im  'is  usual- 
'tisn't  the  whisky  you  drink — an'  send  'im  about  ' 
business.' 

*I  see.     Now,  is  a  pig-pound  the  same  thing  as 
pig-sty?' 

Rhoda  nodded.     ' 'E  needs  one,  too,  but  'e  ain 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  345 

ntitled  to  it.  You  look  at  'is  lease — third  drawer 
n  the  left  in  that  Bombay  cab'net — an'  next  time  'e 
omes  you  ask  'im  to  read  it.  That'll  choke  'im  off, 
>ecause  'e  can't!' 

There  was  nothing  in  Midmore's  past  to  teach  him 
he  message  and  significance  of  a  hand-written  lease  of 
he  late  'eighties,  but  Rhoda  interpreted. 

*It  don't  mean  anything  reelly,'  was  her  cheerful 
onclusion,  'excep'  you  mustn't  get  rid  of  him  anyhow, 
n*  'e  can  do  what  'e  likes  always.     Lucky  for  us  'e  do 

arm;  and  if  it  wasn't  for  'is  woman * 

*0h,  there's  a  Mrs.  Sidney,  is  there?* 
*Lor,  no!^     The  Sidneys  don't  marry.     They  keep, 
hat's  his  fourth  since — to  my  knowledge.     He  was  a 
akin*  man  from  the  first.' 
*Any  families.?' 

*  They'd  be  grown  up  by  now  if  there  was,  wouldn't 
hey?  But  you  can't  spend  all  your  days  considerin' 
is  interests.  That's  what  gave  your  pore  aunt  'er 
ndigestion.     'Ave  you  seen  the  gun-room?' 

Midmore  held  strong  views  on  the  immorality  of 
:aking  life  for  pleasure.  But  there  was  no  denying  that 
:he  late  Colonel  Werf's  seventy-guinea  breechloaders 
ivere  good  at  their  filthy  job.  He  loaded  one,  took  it 
out  and  pointed — merely  pointed — it  at  a  cock-pheasant 
which  rose  out  of  a  shrubbery  behind  the  kitchen,  and 
the  flaming  bird  came  down  in  a  long  slant  on  the  lawn, 
stone  dead.  Rhoda  from  the  scullery  said  it  was  a 
lovely  shot,  and  told  him  lunch  was  ready. 

He  spent  the  afternoon  gun  in  one  hand,  a  map  in  the 


346         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

other,  beating  the  bounds  of  his  lands.  They  la] 
altogether  in  a  shallow,  uninteresting  valley,  flanked  witl 
woods  and  bisected  by  a  brook.  Up  stream  was  hi 
own  house;  down  stream,  less  than  half  a  mile,  a  \o\ 
red  farm-house  squatted  in  an  old  orchard,  beside  wha 
looked  like  small  lock-gates  on  the  Thames.  Ther 
was  no  doubt  as  to  ownership.  Mr.  Sidney  saw  hin 
while  yet  far  off,  and  bellowed  at  him  about  pig-pound 
and  floodgates.  These  last  were  two  great  sHdinj 
shutters  of  weedy  oak  across  the  brook,  which  wen 
prised  up  inch  by  inch  with  a  crowbar  along  a  notchec 
strip  of  iron,  and  when  Sidney  opened  them  they  a 
once  let  out  half  the  water.  Midmore  watched  i 
shrink  between  its  aldered  banks  like  some  conjurinj 
trick.     This,  too,  was  his  very  own. 

*I  see,'  he  said.  *How  interesting!  Now,  what' 
that  bell  for.?'  he  went  on,  pointing  to  an  old  ship's  bel 
in  a  rude  belfry  at  the  end  of  an  outhouse.  'Was  tha 
a  chapel  once.?'  The  red-eyed  giant  seemed  to  havi 
difl&culty  in  expressing  himself  for  the  moment  anc 
blinked  savagely. 

*Yes,'  he  said  at  last.  *My  chapel.  When  yoi 
'ear  that  bell  ring  you'll  'ear  something.  Nobody  bu 
me  'ud  put  up  with  it — but  I  reckon  it  don't  make  an] 
odds  to  you.'  He  slammed  the  gates  down  again,  anc 
the  brook  rose  behind  them  with  a  suck  and  a  grunt. 

Midmore  moved  off,  conscious  that  he  might  be  safe: 
with  Rhoda  to  hold  his  conversational  hand.  As  h< 
passed  the  front  of  the  farm-house  a  smooth  fat  woman 
with  neatly  parted  grey  hair  under  a  widow's  cap,  curt 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  347 

Usied  to  him  deferentially  through  the  window.  By 
itj,  every  teaching  of  the  Immoderate  Left  she  had  a  perfect 
}]j;  right  to  express  herself  in  any  way  she  pleased,  but  the 
Q^  curtsey  revolted  him.  And  on  his  way  home  he  was 
]j, hailed  from  behind  a  hedge  by  a  manifest  idiot  with  no 
jfgTOof  to  his  mouth,  who  hallooed  and  danced  round  him. 
jjj,  'What  did  that  beast  want?'  he  demanded  of  Rhoda 
dj  at  tea. 

^g     *  Jimmy?     He  only  wanted  to  know  if  you  'ad  any 

fg  telegrams    to    send.     'E'U    go    anywhere    so    long    as 

'tisn't    across    running    water.     That    gives    'im    'is 

seizures.     Even  talkin'  about  it  for  fun  like  makes  'im 

shake.' 

*But  why  isn't  he  where  he  can  be  properly  looked 
after?' 

'What  'arm's  'e  doing?  E's  a  love-child,  but  'is 
family  can  pay  for  'im.  If  'e  was  locked  up  'e'd  die  all 
off  at  once,  like  a  wild  rabbit.  Won't  you,  please, 
look  at  the  drive,  sir?' 

Midmore  looked  in  the  fading  light.  The  neat  gravel 
was  pitted  with  large  roundish  holes,  and  there  was  a 
punch  or  two  of  the  same  sort  on  the  lawn. 

'That's  the  'unt  comin*  'ome,'  Rhoda  explained. 
'Your  pore  dear  auntie  always  let  'em  use  our  drive  for  a 
short  cut  after  the  Colonel  died.  The  Colonel  wouldn't 
so  much  because  he  preserved;  but  your  auntie  was 
always  an  'orsewoman  till  'er  sciatica.* 

'Isn't  there  some  one  who  can  rake  it  over  or — or 
something?'  said  Midmore  vaguely. 

*0h  yes.     You'll  never  see  it  in  the  morning,  but — 


348         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

you  was  out  when  they  came  'ome  an'  Mister  Fisher — 
he's  the  Master — told  me  to  tell  you  with  'is  compli- 
ments that  if  you  wasn't  preservin'  and  cared  to  'old  to 
the  old  understandin',  'is  gravel-pit  is  at  your  service 
same  as  before.  'E  thought,  perhaps,  you  mightn't 
know,  and  it  'ad  slipped  my  mind  to  tell  you.  It's 
good  gravel,  Mister  Fisher's,  and  it  binds  beautiful  on 
the  drive.  We  'ave  to  draw  it,  o'  course,  from  the  pit, 
but ' 

Midmore  looked  at  her  helplessly. 

*Rhoda,'  said  he,  *what  am  I  supposed  to  do.'^' 

*0h,  let  'em  come  through,'  she  replied.  *  You  never 
know.     You  may  want  to  'unt  yourself  some  day.' 

That  evening  it  rained  and  his  misery  returned  on 
him,  the  worse  for  having  been  diverted.  At  last  he 
was  driven  to  paw  over  a  few  score  books  in  a  panelled 
room  called  the  library,  and  realised  with  horror  what 
the  late  Colonel  Werf's  mind  must  have  been  in  its 
prime.  The  volumes  smelt  of  a  dead  world  as  strongly 
as  they  did  of  mildew.  He  opened  and  thrust  them 
back,  one  after  another,  till  crude  coloured  illustrations 
of  men  on  horses  held  his  eye.  He  began  at  random 
and  read  a  little,  moved  into  the  drawing-room  with 
the  volume,  and  settled  down  by  the  fire  still  reading. 
It  was  a  foul  world  into  which  he  peeped  for  the  first 
time — a  heavy-eating,  hard-drinking  hell  of  horse- 
copers,  swindlers,  matchmaking  mothers,  economically 
dependent  virgins  selling  themselves  blushingly  for 
cash  and  lands:  Jews,  tradesmen,  and  an  ill-considered 
spawn   of  Dickens-and-horsedung   characters    (I   give 


*MY  SON^S  WIFE'  349 

Midmore's  own  criticism),  but  he  read  on,  fascinated, 
and  behold,  from  the  pages  leaped,  as  it  were,  the 
brother  to  the  red-eyed  man  of  the  brook,  bellowing  at  a 
landlord  (here  Midmore  realised  that  he  was  that  very 
animal)  for  new  barns;  and  another  man  who,  Hke  him- 
self again,  objected  to  hoof-marks  on  gravel.  Outrage- 
ous as  thought  and  conception  were,  the  stuff  seemed  to 
have  the  rudiments  of  observation.  He  dug  out  other 
volumes  by  the  same  author,  till  Rhoda  came  in  with 
a  silver  candlestick. 

*  Rhoda,'  said  he,  'did  you  ever  hear  about  a  character 
called  James  Pigg — and  Batsey?' 

*Why,  o'  course,'  said  she.  *The  Colonel  used  to 
come  into  the  kitchen  in  'is  dressin'-gown  an'  read  us 
all  those  Jorrockses.' 

*0h.  Lord!'  said  Midmore,  and  went  to  bed  with  a 
book  called  Handley  Cross  under  his  arm,  and  a  lonelier 
Columbus  into  a  stranger  world  the  wet-ringed  moon 
never  looked  upon. 

Here  we  omit  much.  But  Midmore  never  denied 
that  for  the  epicure  in  sensation  the  urgent  needs  of  an 
ancient  house,  as  interpreted  by  Rhoda  pointing  to 
daylight  through  attic-tiles  held  in  place  by  moss,  gives 
an  edge  to  the  pleasure  of  Social  Research  elsewhere. 
Equally  he  found  that  the  reaction  following  prolonged 
research  loses  much  of  its  grey  terror  if  one  knows  one 
can  at  will  bathe  the  soul  in  the  society  of  plumbers 
(all  the  water-pipes  had  chronic  appendicitis),  village 
idiots  (Jimmy  had  taken  Midmore  under  his  weak  wing 


350         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

and  camped  daily  at  the  drive-gates),  and  a  giant  witK 
red  eyelids  whose  every  action  is  an  unpredictable  out- 
rage. 

Towards  spring  Midmore  filled  his  house  with  a  few 
friends  of  the  Immoderate  Left.  It  happened  to  be 
the  day  when,  all  things  and  Rhoda  working  together, 
a  cartload  of  bricks,  another  of  sand,  and  some  bags  of 
lime  had  been  despatched  to  build  Sidney  his  almost 
daily-demanded  pig-pound.  Midmore  took  his  friends 
across  the  flat  fields  with  some  idea  of  showing  them 
Sidney  as  a  type  of  'the  peasantry.'  They  hit  the 
minute  when  Sidney,  hoarse  with  rage,  was  ordering 
bricklayer,  mate,  carts  and  all  off  his  premises.  The 
visitors  disposed  themselves  to  listen. 

*  You  never  give  me  no  notice  about  changin'  the  pig,' 
Sidney  shouted.  The  pig — at  least  eighteen  inches  long 
— reared  on  end  in  the  old  sty  and  smiled  at  the  com- 
pany. 

*But,  my  good  man '  Midmore  opened. 

*I  ain't!  For  aught  you  know  I  be  a  dam'  sight 
worse  than  you  be.  You  can't  come  and  be'ave  arbi- 
t'ry  with  me.  You  are  be'avin'  arbit'ry!  All  you  men 
go  clean  away  an'  don't  set  foot  on  my  land  till  I  bid 

ye.' 

'But  you  asked' — Midmore  felt  his  voice  jump  up — 
'to  have  the  pig-pound  built.' 

"Spose  I  did.  That's  no  reason  you  shouldn't  send 
me  notice  to  change  the  pig.  'Comin'  down  on  me  like 
this  'thout  warnin'!  That  pig's  got  to  be  got  into 
the  cowshed  an'  all.' 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  351 

'Then  open  the  door  and  let  him  run  in,'  said  Mid- 
more. 

'Don't  you  be'ave  arbit'ry  with  me!  Take  all  your 
dam'  men  'ome  off  my  land.     I  won't  be  treated  arbi- 

fry.' 

The  carts  moved  off  without  a  word,  and  Sidney 
went  into  the  house  and  slammed  the  door. 

'Now,  I  hold  that  is  enormously  significant,'  said  a 
visitor.  'Here  you  have  the  logical  outcome  of  cen- 
turies of  feudal  oppression — the  frenzy  of  fear.'  The 
company  looked  at  Midmore  with  grave  pain. 

'  But  he  did  worry  my  life  out  about  his  pig-sty,'  was 
all  Midmore  found  to  say. 

Others  took  up  the  parable  and  proved  to  him  if  he 
only  held  true  to  the  gospels  of  the  Immoderate  Left 
the  earth  would  soon  be  covered  with  *  jolly  little'  pig- 
sties, built  in  the  intervals  of  morris-dancing  by  'the 
peasant'  himself. 

Midmore  felt  grateful  when  the  door  opened  again 
and  Mr.  Sidney  invited  them  all  to  retire  to  the  road 
which,  he  pointed  out,  was  public.  As  they  turned  the 
corner  of  the  house,  a  smooth-faced  woman  in  a  widow's 
cap  curtsied  to  each  of  them  through  the  window. 

Instantly  they  drew  pictures  of  that  woman's  lot, 
deprived  of  all  vehicle  for  self-expression — 'the  set  grey 
life  and  apathetic  end,'  one  quoted — and  they  discussed 
the  tremendous  significance  of  village  theatricals. 
Even  a  month  ago  Midmore  would  have  told  them  all 
that  he  knew  and  Rhoda  had  dropped  about  Sidney's 
forms  of  self-expression.     Now,  for  some  strange  reason, 


352         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES  | 

he  was  content  to  let  the  talk  run  on  from  village  to 
metropolitan  and  world  drama. 

Rhoda  advised  him  after  the  visitors  left  that  *if  he 
wanted  to  do  that  again'  he  had  better  go  up  to  town. 

*But  we  only  sat  on  cushions  on  the  floor,'  said  her 
master. 

^They're  too  old  for  romps/  she  retorted,  *an'  it's 
only  the  beginning  of  things.  IVe  seen  what  Vve  seen. 
Besides,  they  talked  and  laughed  in  the  passage  going 
to  their  baths — such  as  took  'em.' 

*  Don't  be  a  fool,  Rhoda,'  said  Midmore.  No  man — 
unless  he  has  loved  her — ^will  casually  dismiss  a  woman 
on  whose  lap  he  has  laid  his  head. 

*Very  good,'  she  snorted,  'but  that  cuts  both  ways. 
An'  now,  you  go  down  to  Sidney's  this  evenin'  and  put 
him  where  he  ought  to  be.  He  was  in  his  right  about 
you  givin'  'im  notice  about  changin'  the  pig,  but  he 
'adn't  any  right  to  turn  it  up  before  your  company. 
No  manners,  no  pig-pound.     He'll  understand.' 

Midmore  did  his  best  to  make  him.  He  found  him- 
self reviling  the  old  man  in  speech  and  with  a  joy  quite 
new  in  all  his  experience.  He  wound  up — it  was  a 
plagiarism  from  a  plumber — by  telling  Mr.  Sidney  that 
he  looked  like  a  turkey-cock,  had  the  morals  of  a  parish 
bull,  and  need  never  hope  for  a  new  pig-pound  as  long  as 
he  or  Midmore  lived. 

*Very  good,'  said  the  giant.  'I  reckon  you  thought 
you  'ad  something  against  me,  and  now  you've  come 
down  an'  told  it  me  like  man  to  man.  Quite  right.  I 
don't  bear  malice.     Now,  you  send  along  those  bricks 


*MY  SON'S  WIFE'  353 

m'  sand,  an'  I'll  make  a  do  to  build  the  pig-pound  my- 
elf.  If  you  look  at  my  lease  you'll  find  out  you're 
Dound  to  provide  me  materials  for  the  repairs.  Only — 
)nly  I  thought  there'd  be  no  'arm  in  my  askin'  you  to 
lo  it  throughout  like.' 

Midmore  fairly  gasped.  'Then,  why  the  devil  did 
y^ou  turn  my  carts  back  when — when  I  sent  them  up 
lere  to  do  it  throughout  for  you?' 

Mr.  Sidney  sat  down  on  the  floodgates,  his  eyebrows 
mitted  in  thought. 

*ril  tell  you,'  he  said  slowly.  *  'Twas  too  dam'  like 
cheatin'  a  suckin'  baby.  My  woman,  she  said  so  too.' 
For  a  few  seconds  the  teachings  of  the  Immoderate 
Left,  whose  humour  is  all  their  own,  wrestled  with 
those  of  Mother  Earth,  who  has  her  own  humours. 
Then  Midmore  laughed  till  he  could  scarcely  stand.  In 
due  time  Mr.  Sidney  laughed  too — crowing  and  wheez- 
ing crescendo  till  it  broke  from  him  in  roars.  They 
shook  hands,  and  Midmore  went  home  grateful  that  he 
had  held  his  tongue  among  his  companions. 

When  he  reached  his  house  he  met  three  or  four  men 
and  women  on  horseback,  very  muddy  indeed,  coming 
down  the  drive.  Feeling  hungry  himself,  he  asked  them 
if  they  were  hungry.  They  said  they  were,  and  he 
bade  them  enter.  Jimmy  took  their  horses,  who 
seemed  to  know  him.  Rhoda  took  their  battered  hats, 
led  the  women  upstairs  for  hairpins,  and  presently  fed 
them  all  with  tea-cakes,  poached  eggs,  anchovy  toast, 
and  drinks  from  a  coromandel-wood  liqueur  case  which 
Midmore  had  never  known  that  he  possessed. 


354         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  And  I  will  say,'  said  Miss  Connie  Sperrit,  her  spurre( 
foot  on  the  fender  and  a  smoking  muffin  in  her  whi| 
hand,  *Rhoda  does  one  top-hole.  She  always  did  sina 
I  was  eight/ 

'Seven,  Miss,  was  when  you  began  to  'unt,'  saic 
Rhoda,  setting  down  more  buttered  toast. 

*And  so,'  the  M.F.H.  was  saying  to  Midmore,  *wher 
he  got  to  your  brute  Sidney's  land,  we  had  to  whip  'en 
off.  It's  a  regular  Alsatia  for  'em.  They  know  it 
Why' — he  dropped  his  voice — *I  don't  want  to  saj 
anything  against  Sidney  as  your  tenant,  of  course,  bul 
I  do  believe  the  old  scoundrel's  perfectly  capable  oi 
putting  down  poison.' 

'Sidney's  capable  of  anything,'  said  Midmore  witt 
immense  feeling;  but  once  again  he  held  his  tongue 
They  were  a  queer  community;  yet  when  they  hac 
stamped  and  jingled  out  to  their  horses  again,  th( 
house  felt  hugely  big  and  disconcerting. 

This  may  be  reckoned  the  conscious  beginning  of  hij 
double  life.  It  ran  in  odd  channels  that  summer — i 
riding  school,  for  instance,  near  Hayes  Common  and  i 
shooting  ground  near  Wormwood  Scrubs.  A  man  whc 
has  been  saddle-galled  or  shoulder-bruised  for  half  th( 
day  is  not  at  his  London  best  of  evenings;  and  when  th( 
bills  for  his  amusements  come  in  he  curtails  his  expense; 
in  other  directions.  So  a  cloud  settled  on  Midmore'; 
name.  His  London  world  talked  of  a  hardening  o: 
heart  and  a  tightening  of  purse-strings  which  signifiec 
disloyalty  to  the  Cause.  One  man,  a  confidant  of  th( 
old  expressive  days,   attacked  him  robustiously  anc 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  355 

rei 

manded  account  of  his  soul's  progress.     It  was  not 

irnished,  for  Midmore  was  calculating  how  much  it 

ould  cost  to  repave  stables  so  dilapidated  that  even 

le  village  idiot  apologised  for  putting  visitors'  horses 

ito  them.     The  man  went  away,  and  served  up  what 

e  had  heard  of  the  pig-pound  episode  as  a  little  news- 

aper  sketch,  calculated  to  annoy.     Midmore  read  it 

ith  an  eye  as  practical  as  a  woman's,  and  since  most 

f  his  experiences  had  been  among  women,  at  once 

DUght  out  a  woman  to  whom  he  might  tell  his  sorrow 

t  the  disloyalty  of  his  own  familiar  friend.     She  was 

sympathetic  that  he  went  on  to  confide  how  his 

ruised  heart — she  knew  all  about  it — had  found  so- 

ice,  with  a  long  O,  in  another  quarter  which  he  indi- 

ated  rather  carefully  in  case  it  might  be  betrayed  to 

ther    loyal    friends.     As    his    hints    pointed    directly 

owards  facile  Hampstead,  and  as  his  urgent  business 

V2LS  the  purchase  of  a  horse  from  a  dealer,  Beckenham 

vay,  he  felt  he  had  done  good  work.     Later,  when  his 

riend,  the  scribe,  talked  to  him  alluringly  of  *  secret 

gardens'  and  those  so-laces  to  which  every  man  who 

bllows  the  Wider  Morality  is  entitled,  Midmore  lent 

lim  a  five-pound  note  which  he  had  got  back  on  the 

5rice  of  a  ninety-guinea  bay  gelding.     So  true  it  is,  as 

Ke  read  in  one  of  the  late  Colonel  Werf's  books,  that 

^the  young  man  of  the  present  day  would  sooner  lie 

under  an  imputation  against  his  morals  than  against  his 

knowledge  of  horse-flesh.' 

Midmore  desired  more  than  he  desired  anything  else 

at  that  moment  to  ride  and,  above  all,  to  jump  on  a 


356         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

ninety-guinea  bay  gelding  with  black  points  and  * 
slovenly  habit  of  hitting  his  fences.  He  did  not  wish 
many  people  except  Mr.  Sidney,  who  very  kindly  lent 
his  soft  meadow  behind  the  floodgates,  to  be  privy 
to  the  matter,  which  he  rightly  foresaw  would  take  him 
to  the  autumn.  So  he  told  such  friends  as  hinted  at 
country  week-end  visits  that  he  had  practically  let  his 
newly  inherited  house.  The  rent,  he  said,  was  an  ob- 
ject to  him,  for  he  had  lately  lost  large  sums  through 
ill-considered  benevolences.  He  would  name  no  names, 
but  they  could  guess.  And  they  guessed  loyally  all 
round  the  circle  of  his  acquaintance  as  they  spread  the 
news  that  explained  so  much. 

There  remained  only  one  couple  of  his  once  intimate 
associates  to  pacify.  They  were  deeply  sympathetic 
and  utterly  loyal,  of  course,  but  as  curious  as  any  of  the 
apes  whose  diet  they  had  adopted.  Midmore  met 
them  in  a  suburban  train,  coming  up  to  town,  not 
twenty  minutes  after  he  had  come  off  two  hours'  ad- 
vanced tuition  (one  guinea  an  hour)  over  hurdles  in  a 
hall.  He  had,  of  course,  changed  his  kit,  but  his  too 
heavy  bridle-hand  shook  a  little  among  the  newspapers. 
On  the  inspiration  of  the  moment,  which  is  your  natural 
liar's  best  hold,  he  told  them  that  he  was  condemned  to 
a  rest-cure.  He  would  lie  in  semi-darkness  drinking 
milk,  for  weeks  and  weeks,  cut  off  even  from  letters. 
He  was  astonished  and  delighted  at  the  ease  with  which 
the  usual  lie  confounds  the  unusual  intellect.  They 
swallowed  it  as  swiftly  as  they  recommended  him  to 
live  on  nuts  and  fruit;  but  he  saw  in  the  woman's  eyes 


*MY  SON'S  WIFE'  357 

le  exact  reason  she  would  set  forth  for  his  retirement. 

fter  all,  she  had  as  much  right  to  express  herself  as 
e  purposed  to  take  for  himself;  and  Midmore  believed 

rongly  in  the  fullest  equality  of  the  sexes. 

That  retirement  made  one  small  ripple  in  the  strenu- 
us  world.  The  lady  who  had  written  the  tw^elve-page 
itter  ten  months  before  sent  him  another  of  eight 
ages,  analysing  all  the  motives  that  were  leading  her 
ack  to  him — should  she  come? — now  that  he  was  ill 
nd  alone.  Much  might  yet  be  retrieved,  she  said,  out 
the  waste  of  jarring  lives  and  piteous  misunder- 
tandings.     It  needed  only  a  hand. 

But  Midmore  needed  two,  next  morning  very  early, 
)r  a  devil's  diversion,  among  wet  coppices,  called 
zubbing.' 

*You  haven't  a  bad  seat,'  said  Miss  Sperrit  through 
le  morning-mists.     *But  you're  worrying  him.' 

*He  pulls  so,'  Midmore  grunted. 

'Let  him  alone,  then.  Look  out  for  the  branches,' 
he  shouted,  as  they  whirled  up  a  splashy  ride.  Cubs 
reve  plentiful.  Most  of  the  hounds  attached  them- 
elves  to  a  straight-necked  youngster  of  education  who 
cuttled  out  of  the  woods  into  the  open  fields  below. 

'Hold  on!'  some  one  shouted.  'Turn  'em,  Midmore. 
'hat's  your  brute  Sidney's  land.     It's  all  wire.' 

'Oh,  Connie,  stop!'  Mrs.  Sperrit  shrieked  as  her 
aughter  charged  at  a  boundary-hedge. 

'Wire  be  damned!  I  had  it  all  out  a  fortnight  ago. 
'ome  on !'  This  was  Midmore,  buffeting  into  it  a  little 
)wer  down. 


358         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*/  knew  that!'  Connie  cried  over  her  shoulder,  an 
she  flitted  across  the  open  pasture,  humming  to  hersel] 

'Oh,  of  course !  If  some  people  have  private  informa 
tion,  they  can  afford  to  thrust.'  This  was  a  snufi 
coloured  habit  into  which  Miss  Sperrit  had  cannone 
down  the  ride. 

'What!  'Midmore  got  Sidney  to  heel?  You  neve 
did  that,  Sperrit/  This  was  Mr.  Fisher,  M.F.H.,  en 
larging  the  breach  Midmore  had  made. 

*No,  confound  him!'  said  the  father  testily.  *Go  or 
sir!  Injecto  ter  pulvere — youVe  kicked  half  the  ditc' 
into  my  eye  already.' 

They  killed  that  cub  a  little  short  of  the  haven  hi 
mother  had  told  him  to  make  for — a  two-acre  Alsati 
of  a  gorse-patch  to  which  the  M.F.H.  had  been  deniei 
access  for  the  last  fifteen  seasons.  He  expressed  hi 
gratitude  before  all  the  field  and  Mr.  Sidney,  at  Mi 
Sidney's  farmhouse  door. 

*And  if  there  should  be  any  poultry  claims '  h 

went  on. 

'There  won't  be,'  said  Midmore.  'It's  too  lik 
cheating  a  sucking  child,  isn't  it,  Mr.  Sidney?' 

'You've  got  me!'  was  all  the  reply.  'I  be  used  t< 
bein'  put  upon,  but  you've  got  me,  Mus'  Midmore.' 

Midmore  pointed  to  a  new  brick  pig-pound  built  ii 
strict  disregard  of  the  terms  of  the  life-tenant's  lease 
The  gesture  told  the  tale  to  the  few  who  did  not  know 
and  they  shouted. 

Such  pagan  delights  as  these  were  followed  by  pagai 
sloth  of  evenings  when  men  and  women  elsewhere  ar 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  359 

:  their  brightest.     But  Midmore  preferred  to  He  out 
1  a  yellow  silk  couch,  reading  works  of  a  debasing 
jlgarity;  or,  by  invitation,  to  dine  with  the  Sperrits 
id  savages  of  their  kidney.     These  did  not  expect 
ghts  of  fancy  or  phrasing.     They  lied,  except  about 
Drses,  grudgingly  and  of  necessity,  not  for  art's  sake; 
id,  men  and  women  alike,  they  expressed  themselves 
ong  their  chosen  lines  with  the  serene  indifference  of 
le  larger  animals.     Then  Midmore  would  go  home 
id  identify  them,  one  by  one,  out  of  the  natural- 
story  books  by  Mr.  Surtees,  on  the  table  beside  the 
)fa.     At  first  they  looked  upon  him  coolly,  but  when 
le  tale  of  the  removed  wire  and  the  recaptured  gorse 
ad  gone  the  rounds,  they  accepted  him  for  a  person 
illing  to  play  their  games.     True,  a  faction  suspended 
idgment  for  a  while,  because  they  shot,  and  hoped 
lat  Midmore  would  serve  the  glorious  mammon  of 
heasant-raising  rather  than  the  unkempt  god  of  fox- 
unting.     But  after  he  had  shown  his  choice,  they  did 
ot  ask  by  what  intellectual  process  he  had  arrived  at  it. 
[e  hunted  three,  sometimes  four,  times  a  week,  which 
ecessitated  not  only  one  bay  gelding  (£94:  los.),  but 
mannerly  white-stockinged  chestnut  (£114),  and  a 
lack  mare,  rather  long  in  the  back  but  with  a  mouth 
f  silk  (£150),  who  so  evidently  preferred  to  carry  a 
idy  that  it  would  have  been  cruel  to  have  baulked  her. 
lesides,  with  that  handling  she  could  be  sold  at  a  profit, 
.nd    besides,  the  hunt  was  a  quiet,  intimate,  kindly 
ttle  hunt,  not  anxious  for  strangers,  of  good  report 
1  the  Field,  the  servant  of  one  M.F.H.,  given  to  hos- 


36o         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

pitality,  riding  well  its  own  horses,  and,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  Midmore,  not  novices.  But  as  Miss  Sperri 
observed,  after  the  M.F.H.  had  said  some  things  t( 
him  at  a  gate:  *It  is  a  pity  you  don't  know  as  mucl 
as  your  horse,  but  you  will  in  time.  It  takes  years  an( 
yee-ars.  I've  been  at  it  for  fifteen  and  I'm  only  jus 
learning.     But  you've  made  a  decent  kick-ofF ' 

So  he  kicked  off  in  wind  and  wet  and  mud,  wonderinj 
quite  sincerely  why  the  bubbling  ditches  and  suckinj 
pastures  held  him  from  day  to  day,  or  what  so-lace  hi 
could  find  on  off  days  in  chasing  grooms  and  brick 
layers  round  outhoiTses. 

To  make  sure  he  up-rooted  himself  one  week-end  o 
heavy  mid-winter  rain,  and  re-entered  his  lost  worlc 
in  the  character  of  Galahad  fresh  from  a  rest-cure 
They  all  agreed,  with  an  eye  over  his  shoulder  for  thi 
next  comer,  that  he  was  a  different  man;  but  whei 
they  asked  him  for  the  symptoms  of  nervous  strain 
and  led  him  all  through  their  own,  he  realised  he  hac 
lost  much  of  his  old  skill  in  lying.  His  three  months 
absence,  too,  had  put  him  hopelessly  behind  the  Londor 
field.  The  movements,  the  allusions,  the  slang  of  th( 
game  had  changed.  The  couples  had  rearranged  them- 
selves or  were  re-crystallizing  in  fresh  triangles,  whereb) 
he  put  his  foot  in  it  badly.  Only  one  great  soul  (h< 
who  had  written  the  account  of  the  pig-pound  episode] 
stood  untouched  by  the  vast  flux  of  time,  and  Midmon 
lent  him  another  fiver  for  his  integrity.  A  woman  tooi 
him,  in  the  wet  forenoon,  to  a  pronouncement  on  the 
Oneness  of  Impulse  in  Humanity,  which  struck  him  as  a 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  361 

olysyllabic  resume  of  Mr.  Sidney's  domestic  arrange- 
nents,  plus  a  clarion  call  to  'shock  civilisation  into 
ommon-sense.' 

'And  you'll  come  to  tea  with  me  to-morrow?'  she 
sked,  after  lunch,  nibbling  cashew  nuts  from  a  saucer, 
klidmore  replied  that  there  were  great  arrears  of  work 
o  overtake  when  a  man  had  been  put  away  for  so  long. 

'  But  you've  come  back  like  a  giant  refreshed.     .     .     . 

hope  that  Daphne' — this  was  the  lady  of  the  twelve 
nd  the  eight-page  letter — 'will  be  with  us  too.  She 
as  misunderstood  herself,  like  so  many  of  us,*  the 
v^oman  murmured,  'but  I  thint* eventually  .  .  .' 
he  flung  out  her  thin  little  hands.  'However,  these 
re  things  that  each  lonely  soul  must  adjust  for  itself.' 

'Indeed,  yes,'  said  Midmore  with  a  deep  sigh.  The 
Id  tricks  were  sprouting  in  the  old  atmosphere  like 
nushrooms  in  a  dung-pit.  He  passed  into  an  abrupt 
everie,  shook  his  head,  as  though  stung  by  tumultuous 
nemories,  and  departed  without  any  ceremony  of 
arewell  to — catch  a  mid-afternoon  express  where  a  man 
neets  associates  who  talk  horse,  and  weather  as  it 
fFects  the  horse,  all  the  way  down.  What  worried 
lim  most  was  that  he  had  missed  a  day  with  the  hounds. 

He  met  Rhoda's  keen  old  eyes  without  flinching; 
nd  the  drawing-room  looked  very  comfortable  that 
vet  evening  at  tea.  After  all,  his  visit  to  town  had  not 
een  wholly  a  failure.  He  had  burned  quite  a  bushel 
>f  letters  at  his  flat.  A  flat — here  he  reached  mechani- 
rally  towards  the  worn  volumes  near  the  sofa — a  flat 
vas    a   consuming   animal.     As    for    Daphne     .     .     . 


362         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

he  opened  at  random  on  the  words:  *His  lordship  ther 
did  as  desired  and  disclosed  a  tableau  of  considerable 
strength  and  variety/  Midmore  reflected:  'And  ] 
used  to  think  .  .  .  But  she  wasn't  .  .  .  W( 
were  all  babblers  and  skirters  together  .  .  .  ] 
didn't  babble  much — thank  goodness — but  I  skirted. 
He  turned  the  pages  backward  for  more  Sortes  Sur- 
teesianae,  and  read:  'When  at  length  they  rose  to  gc 
to  bed  it  struck  each  man  as  he  followed  his  neighboui 
upstairs,  that  the  man  before  him  walked  very  crook- 
edly/    He  laughed  aloud  at  the  fire. 

'What  about  to-morrow?'  Rhoda  asked,  entering 
with  garments  over  her  shoulder.  'It's  never  stopped 
raining  since  you  left.  You'll  be  plastered  out  of  sight 
an'  all  in  five  minutes.  You'd  better  wear  your  next 
best,  'adn't  you?  I'm  afraid  they've  shrank.  'Adn't 
you  best  try  'em  on  ? ' 

'Here?'  said  Midmore. 

"Suit  yourself.  I  bathed  you  when  you  wasn't 
larger  than  a  leg  o'  lamb,'  said  the  ex-ladies'-maid. 

'Rhoda,  one  of  these  days  I  shall  get  a  valet,  and  a 
married  butler.' 

'There's  many  a  true  word  spoke  in  jest.  But  no- 
body's huntin'  to-morrow.' 

'Why?     Have  they  cancelled  the  meet?' 

'They  say  it  only  means  slipping  and  over-reaching 
in  the  mud,  and  they  all  'ad  enough  of  that  to-day. 
CharHe  told  me  so  just  now.' 

'Oh!'  It  seemed  that  the  word  of  Mr.  Sperrit's 
confidential  clerk  had  weight. 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  363 

'Charlie  came  down  to  help  Mr.  Sidney  lift  the  gates,* 
Ihoda  continued. 

The  floodgates  ?     They  are  perfectly  easy  to  handle 
Qw.     IVe  put  in  a  wheel  and  a  winch.' 

'  When  the  brook's  really  up  they  must  be  took  clean 
ut  on  account  of  the  rubbish  blockin'  'em.  That's 
rhy  Charlie  came  down.' 

Midmore  grunted  impatiently.  'Everybody  has 
alked  to  me  about  that  brook  ever  since  I  cajne  here. 
t's  never  done  anything  yet.' 

'This  'as  been  a  dry  summer.  If  you  care  to  look 
sow,  sir,  ril  get  you  a  lantern.' 

She  paddled  out  with  him  into  a  large  wet  night. 
lalf-way  down  the  lawn  her  light  was  reflected  on 
hallow  brown  water,  pricked  through  with  grass  blades 
,.t  the  edges.  Beyond  that  light,  the  brook  was 
trangling  and  kicking  among  hedges  and  tree-trunks. 

'What  on  earth  will  happen  to  the  big  rose-bed?'  was, 
ilidmore's  first  word. 

'It  generally  'as  to  be  restocked  after  a  flood.  Ahl' 
he  raised  her  lantern.  'There's  two  garden-seats 
mockin'  against  the  sun-dial.  Now,  that  won't  do 
he  roses  any  good.' 

'This  is  too  absurd.  There  ought  to  be  some  de- 
rently  thought-out  system — for — for  dealing  with  this 
;ort  of  thing.'  He  peered  into  the  rushing  gloom. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  end  to  the  moisture  and  the 
acket.     In  town  he  had  noticed  nothing. 

'It  can't  be  'elped,'  said  Rhoda.  'It's  just  what  it 
loes  do  once  in  just  so  often.     We'd  better  go  back.' 


364         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

All  earth  under  foot  was  sliding  in  a  thousand  liquid 
noises  towards  the  hoarse  brook.  Somebody  wailed 
from  the  house:  "Fraid  o*  the  water!  Come  'ere! 
'Fraid  o'  the  water!' 

'That's  Jimmy.  Wet  always  takes  'im  that  way,' 
she  explained.  The  idiot  charged  into  them,  shaking 
with  terror.  j 

*  Brave  Jimmy!  How  brave  of  Jimmy!  Come  into 
the  hall.  What  Jimmy  got  now.f"  she  crooned.  It 
was  a  sodden  note  which  ran:  'Dear  Rhoda — Mr. 
Lotten,  with  whom  I  rode  home  this  afternoon,  told  me 
that  if  this  wet  keeps  up,  he's  afraid  the  fish-pond  he 
built  last  year,  where  Coxen's  old  mill-dam  was,  will  go, 
as  the  dam  did  once  before,  he  says.  If  it  does  it's 
bound  to  come  down  the  brook.  It  may  be  all  right,i 
but  perhaps  you  had  better  look  out.     C.  S.' 

*If  Coxen's  dam  goes,  that  means  .  .  .  I'll 
'ave  the  drawing-room  carpet  up  at  once  to  be  on  the 
safe  side.     The  claw-'ammer  is  in  the  libery.' 

*Wait  a  minute.     Sidney's  gates  are  out,  you  said?'^ 

*  Both.  He'll  need  it  if  Coxen's  pond  goes.  .  .  . 
I've  seen  it  once.' 

*ril  just  slip  down  and  have  a  look  at  Sidney.  Light' 
the  lantern  again,  please,  Rhoda.' 

'You  won't  get  him  to  stir.  He's  been  there  since 
he  was  born.  But  she  don't  know  anything.  I'll 
fetch  your  waterproof  and  some  top-boots.' 

"Fraid  o'  the  water!  'Fraid  o'  the  water!'  Jimmy 
sobbed,  pressed  against  a  corner  of  the  hall,  his  hands 
to  his  eves. 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  365 

j  'All  right,  Jimmy.  Jimmy  can  help  play  with  the 
arpet/  Rhoda  answered,  as  Midmore  went  forth  into 
he  darkness  and  the  roarings  all  round.  He  had  never 
een  such  an  utterly  unregulated  state  of  affairs.  There 
s^as  another  lantern  reflected  on  the  streaming  drive. 

*Hi!  Rhoda!  Did  you  get  my  note?  I  came  down 
o  make  sure.  I  thought,  afterwards,  Jimmy  might 
unk  the  water!' 

'It's  me — Miss  Sperrit,'  Midmore  cried.  'Yes,  we 
;ot  it,  thanks.' 

'You're  back,  then.  Oh,  good!  .  .  .  Is  it  bad 
own  with  you  ? ' 

'I'm  going  to  Sidney's  to  have  a  look.' 

'You  won't  get  him  out.     'Lucky  I  met  Bob  Lotten. 

told  him  he  hadn't  any  business  impounding  water  for 
lis  idiotic  trout  without  rebuilding  the  dam.' 

'How  far  up  is  it?     I've  only  been  there  once.' 

'Not  more  than  four  miles  as  the  water  will  come, 
le  says  he's  opened  all  the  sluices.' 

She  had  turned  and  fallen  into  step  beside  him,  her 
iooded  head  bowed  against  the  thinning  rain.  As 
isual  she  was  humming  to  herself. 

'Why  on  earth  did  you  come  out  in  this  weather?' 
Midmore  asked. 

'It  was  worse  when  you  were  in  town.  The  rain's 
aking  off  now.  If  it  wasn't  for  that  pond,  I  wouldn't 
vorry  so  much.  There's  Sidney's  bell.  Come  on!' 
)he  broke  into  a  run.  A  cracked  bell  was  jangling 
eebly  down  the  valley. 

'Keep  on  the  road!'  Midmore  shouted.     The  ditches 


366         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

were  snorting  bank-full  on  either  side,  and  towards  tht 
brook-side  the  fields  were  afloat  and  beginning  to  mov« 
in  the  darkness. 

*  Catch  me  going  off  it!  There's  his  light  burning  al 
right.'  She  halted  undistressed  at  a  little  rise.  *Bu 
the  flood's  in  the  orchard.  Look!'  She  swung  he; 
lantern  to  show  a  front  rank  of  old  apple-trees  reflectec 
in  still,  out-lying  waters  beyond  the  half-drownec 
hedge.  They  could  hear  above  the  thud-thud  of  the 
gorged  floodgates,  shrieks  in  two  keys  as  monotonous  ai 
a  steam-organ. 

'The  high  one's  the  pig.'     Miss  Sperrit  laughed. 

*  All  right !  I'll  get  her  out.  You  stay  where  you  are, 
and  I'll  see  you  home  afterwards.' 

*But  the  water's  only  just  over  the  road,'  she  ob- 
jected. 

'Never  mind.     Don't  you  move.     Promise.?' 

'All  right.  You  take  my  stick,  then,  and  feel  for 
holes  in  case  anything's  washed  out  anywhere.  This  is 
a  lark!' 

Midmore  took  it,  and  stepped  into  the  water  that 
moved  sluggishly  as  yet  across  the  farm  road  which  ran 
to  Sidney's  front  door  from  the  raised  and  metalled 
public  road.  It  was  half  way  up  to  his  knees  when  he 
knocked.  As  he  looked  back  Miss  Sperrit's  lantern 
seemed  to  float  in  mid-ocean. 

'You  can't  come  in  or  the  water'U  come  with  you. 
I've  bunged  up  all  the  cracks,'  Mr.  Sidney  shouted  from 
within.     'Who  be  ye?' 

'Take  me  out!    Take  me  out!'  the  woman  shrieked, 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  367 

and  the  pig  from  his  sty  behind  the  house  urgently 
seconded  the  motion. 

*rm  Midmore!  Coxen's  old  mill-dam  is  likely  to  go, 
they  say.     Come  out!' 

*I  told  'em  it  would  when  they  made  a  fish-pond  of  it. 
'Twasn't  ever  puddled  proper.  But  it's  a  middlin' 
wide  valley.  She's  got  room  to  spread.  .  .  .  Keep 
still,  or  I'll  take  and  duck  you  in  the  cellar!  .  .  . 
You  go  'ome,  Mus'  Midmore,  an'  take  the  law  o'  Mus' 
i|Lotten  soon's  you've  changed  your  socks.' 

'Confound  you,  aren't  you  coming  out.?' 

*To  catch  my  death  o'  cold?  I'm  all  right  where  I 
be.  I've  seen  it  before.  But  you  can  take  her.  She's 
no  sort  o'  use  or  sense.  .  .  .  Climb  out  through  the 
window.  Didn't  I  tell  you  I'd  plugged  the  door-cracks, 
you  fool's  daughter?'  The  parlour  window  opened, 
and  the  woman  flung  herself  into  Midmore's  arms, 
nearly  knocking  him  down.  Mr.  Sidney  leaned  out  of 
the  window,  pipe  in  mouth. 

*Take  her  'ome,'  he  said,  and  added  oracularly: 

*Two  women  in  one  house, 
Two  cats  an'  one  mouse, 
Two  dogs  an*  one  bone — 
Which  I  will  leave  alone. 

I've  seen  it  before.'  Then  he  shut  and  fastened  the 
window. 

*A  trap!  A  trap!  You  had  ought  to  have  brought 
a  trap  for  me.  I'll  be  drowned  in  this  wet,'  the  woman 
cried. 

'Hold  up!    You  can't  be  any  wetter  than  you  are. 


368         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Come  along!'     Midmore  did  not  at  all  like  the  feel  o^\ 
the  water  over  his  boot-tops.  i 

*  Hooray!  Come  along!*  Miss  Sperrit's  lantern,  no*|j 
fifty  yards  away,  waved  cheerily. 

The  woman  threshed  towards  it  like  a  panic-stricken 
goose,  fell  on  her  knees,  was  jerked  up  again  by  Mid- 
more,  and  pushed  on  till  she  collapsed  at  Miss  Sperrit'sB 
feet. 

*But  you  won't  get  bronchitis  if  you  go  straight  to 
Mr.  Midmore's  house,'  said  the  unsympathetic  maiden. 

*0  Gawd!  O  Gawd!  I  wish  our  'eavenly  Father 
'ud  forgive  me  my  sins  an'  call  me  'ome,'  the  woman 
sobbed.     *But  I  won't  go  to  'is  'ouse!     I  won't.' 

*A11  right,  then.  Stay  here.  Now,  if  we  run,'  Miss 
Sperrit  whispered  to  Midmore,  'she'll  follow  us.  Not 
too  fast!' 

They  set  off  at  a  considerable  trot,  and  the  woman 
lumbered  behind  them,  bellowing,  till  they  met  a  third 
lantern — Rhoda  holding  Jimmy's  hand.  She  had  got 
the  carpet  up,  she  said,  and  was  escorting  Jimmy  past 
the  water  that  he  dreaded. 

'That's  all  right,'  Miss  Sperrit  pronounced.  'Take 
Mrs.  Sidney  back  with  you,  Rhoda,  and  put  her  to  bed. 
I'll  take  Jimmy  with  me.  You  aren't  afraid  of  the 
water  now,  are  you,  Jimmy  ? ' 

'Not  afraid  of  anything  now.'  Jimmy  reached  for 
her  hand.     'But  get  away  from  the  water  quick.' 

'I'm  coming  with  you,'  Midmore  interrupted. 

'You  most  certainly  are  not.  You're  drenched. 
She  threw  you  twice.     Go  home  and  change.     You 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  369 

nay  have  to  be  out  again  all  night.  It's  only  half-past 
even  now.  I'm  perfectly  safe.'  She  flung  herself 
ightly  over  a  stile,  and  hurried  uphill  by  the  footpath, 
>ut  of  reach  of  all  but  the  boasts  of  the  flood  below. 

Rhoda,  dead  silent,  herded  Mrs.  Sidney  to  the  house. 

'You'll  find  your  things  laid  out  on  the  bed,'  she  said 
0  Midmore  as  he  came  up.  'I'll  attend  to — to  this. 
She's  got  nothing  to  cry  for.' 

Midmore  raced  into  dry  kit,  and  raced  uphill  to  be 
ewarded  by  the  sight  of  the  lantern  just  turning  into 
he  Sperrits'  gate.  He  came  back  by  way  of  Sidney's 
'arm,  where  he  saw  the  light  twinkling  across  three  acres 
)f  shining  water,  for  the  rain  had  ceased  and  the  clouds 
vere  stripping  overhead,  though  the  brook  was  noisier 
:han  ever.  Now  there  was  only  that  doubtful  mill-pond 
:o  look  after — that  and  his  swirling  world  abandoned 
to  himself  alone. 

'We  shall  have  to  sit  up  for  it,'  said  Rhoda  after 
dinner.  And  as  the  drawing-room  commanded  the 
5est  view  of  the  rising  flood,  they  watched  it  from  there 
for  a  long  time,  while  all  the  clocks  of  the  house  bore 
them  company. 

*  'Tisn't  the  water,  it's  the  mud  on  the  skirting-board 
after  it  goes  down  that  I  mind,'  Rhoda  whispered. 
'The  last  time  Coxen's  mill  broke,  I  remember  it  came 
up  to  the  second — no,  third — step  o'  Mr.  Sidney's 
stairs.' 

'What  did  Sidney  do  about  it?' 

'He  made  a  notch  on  the  step.  'E  said  it  was  a 
record.     Just  like  'im.' 


n 


370         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'It's  up  to  the  drive  now,'  said  Midmore  after  anothei 
long  wait.  *And  the  rain  stopped  before  eight,  yoi 
know/  jj^Hj 

'Then  Coxen's  dam  'as  broke,  and  that's  the  first  o 
the  flood-water.'  She  stared  out  beside  him.  The 
water  was  rising  in  sudden  pulses — an  inch  or  two  at  i 
time,  with  great  sweeps  and  lagoons  and  a  sudden  in 
crease  of  the  brook's  proper  thunder. 

'You  can't  stand  all  the  time.  Take  a  chair,*  Mid 
more  said  presently. 

Rhoda  looked  back  into  the  bare  room.  'The  carpei 
bein'  up  does  make  a  difference.  Thank  you,  sir,  I  wit 
'ave  a  set-down.' 

"Right  over  the  drive  now,'  said  Midmore.  H( 
opened  the  window  and  leaned  out.  'Is  that  wind  uj 
the  valley,  Rhoda?' 

'No,  that's  it!     But  I've  seen  it  before.' 

There  was  not  so  much  a  roar  as  the  purposeful  driv< 
of  a  tide  across  a  jagged  reef,  which  put  down  ever] 
other  sound  for  twenty  minutes.  A  wide  sheet  o 
water  hurried  up  to  the  little  terrace  on  which  the  housi 
stood,  pushed  round  either  corner,  rose  again  anc 
stretched,  as  it  were,  yawning  beneath  the  moonlight 
joined  other  sheets  waiting  for  them  in  unsuspectec 
hollows,  and  lay  out  all  in  one.     A  pufFof  wind  followed 

'It's  right  up  to  the  wall  now.  I  can  touch  it  witl 
my  finger.'     Midmore  bent  over  the  window-sill. 

*I  can  'ear  it  in  the  cellars,'  said  Rhoda  dolefully 
'Well,  we've  done  what  we  can !  I  think  I'll  'ave  a  look. 
She  left  the  room  and  was  absent  half  an  hour  or  more 


*MY  SON'S  WIFE'  371 

luring  which  time  he  saw  a  full-grown  tree  hauling  itself 
icross  the  lawn  by  its  naked  roots.  Then  a  hurdle 
mocked  against  the  wall,  caught  on  an  iron  foot-scraper 
ust  outside,  and  made  a  square-headed  ripple.  The 
:ascade  through  the  cellar-windows  diminished. 

'It's  dropping,'  Rhoda  cried,  as  she  returned.  'It's 
>nly  tricklin'  into  my  cellars  now.' 

*Wait  a  minute.  I  believe — I  believe  I  can  see  the 
craper  on  the  edge  of  the  drive  just  showing!' 

In  another  ten  minutes  the  drive  itself  roughened 
md  became  gravel  again,  tilting  all  its  water  towards 
he  shrubbery. 

*The  pond's  gone  past,'  Rhoda  announced.  *We 
ihall  only  'ave  the  common  flood  to  contend  with  now. 
ifou'd  better  go  to  bed.' 

'I  ought  to  go  down  and  have  another  look  at  Sidney 
)efore  daylight.' 

*No  need.  You  can  see  'is  light  burnin'  from  all  the 
ipstairs  windows.' 

*By  the  way.  I  forgot  about  her.  Where' ve  you 
3ut  her?' 

*In  my  bed.'  Rhoda's  tone  was  ice.  *I  wasn't 
5oing  to  undo  a  room  for  that  stuff.' 

*But  it — it  couldn't  be  helped,'  said  Midmore.  *She 
?^as  half  drowned.  One  mustn't  be  narrow-minded, 
Rhoda,  even  if  her  position  isn't  quite — er — regular.' 

'Pfff!  I  wasn't  worryin'  about  that.'  She  leaned 
Forward  to  the  window.  'There's  the  edge  of  the  lawn 
showin'  now.  It  falls  as  fast  as  it  rises.  Dearie' — 
the  change  of  tone  made  Midmore  jump — 'didn't  you 


372         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

know  that  I  was  'is  first?  That^s  what  makes  it  so  han 
to  bear/  Midmore  looked  at  the  long  lizard-like  bad 
and  had  no  words. 

She  went  on,  still  talking  through  the  black  window 
pane: 

*Your  pore  dear  auntie  was  very  kind  about  it.  Sht 
said  she'd  make  all  allowances  for  one,  but  no  more. 
Never  any  more.  .  .  .  Then,  you  didn't  know  'oc 
Charlie  was  all  this  time.?' 

*Your  nephew,  I  always  thought.' 

'Well,  well,'  she  spoke  pityingly.  *  Everybody's 
business  being  nobody's  business,  I  suppose  no  one 
thought  to  tell  you.  But  Charlie  made  'is  own  way  foi 
'imself  from  the  beginnin'!  .  .  .  But  her  upstairs, 
she  never  produced  anything.  Just  an  'ousekeeper,  as 
you  might  say.  'Turned  over  an'  went  to  sleep  straight 
off.  She  'ad  the  impudence  to  ask  me  for  'ot  sherry- 
gruel.' 

*Did  you  give  it  to  her,'  said  Midmore. 

'  Me  ?     Your  sherry .?    No ! ' 

The  memory  of  Sidney's  outrageous  rhyme  at  the  win- 
dow, and  Charlie's  long  nose  (he  thought  it  looked  inter- 
ested at  the  time)  as  he  passed  the  copies  of  Mrs.  WerPs 
last  four  wills,  overcame  Midmore  without  warning.  ? 

'This  damp  is  givin'  you  a  cold,'  said  Rhoda,  rising. 
'There  you  go  again !  Sneezin's  a  sure  sign  of  it.  Better 
go  to  bed.  You  can't  do  any  thin'  excep" — she  stood 
rigid,  with  crossed  arms — 'about  me.' 

'Well.  What  about  you?'  Midmore  stuffed  the 
handkerchief  into  his  pocket. 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  373 

*Now  you  know  about  it,  what  are  you  goin*  to 
o — sir  ? ' 

She  had  the  answer  on  her  lean  cheek  before  the 
entence  was  finished. 

'Go  and  see  if  you  can  get  us  something  to  eat/Rhoda. 
Lnd  beer/ 

*I  expec'  the  larder  '11  be  in  a  swim/  she  replied,  *but 
Id  bottled  stuff  don't  take  any  harm  from  wet.'  She 
eturned  with  a  tray,  all  in  order,  and  they  ate  and 
rank  together,  and  took  observations  of  the  falling 
ood  till  dawn  opened  its  bleared  eyes  on  the  wreck 
f  what  had  been  a  fair  garden.  Midmore,  cold  and 
nnoyed,  found  himself  humming: 

*That  flood  strewed  wrecks  upon  the  grass. 
That  ebb  swept  out  the  flqcks  to  sea. 

'here  isn't  a  rose  left,  Rhoda! 

An  awesome  ebb  and  flow  it  was 
To  many  more  than  mine  and  me. 
But  each  will  mourn  his     .     .     . 

t'U  cost  me  a  hundred.' 

'Now  we  know  the  worst,'  said  Rhoda,  'we  can  go  to 
ed.  I'll  lay  on  the  kitchen  sofa.  His  light's  burnin' 
till.' 

'And.  she  r 

'Dirty  old  cat!    You  ought  to  'ear  'er  snore  1* 

At  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  after  a  maddening 
our  in  his  own  garden  on  the  edge  of  the  retreating 
rook,  Midmore  went  off  to  confront  more  damage  at 


374         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 


I 


Sidney's.  The  first  thing  that  met  him  was  the  pigj 
snowy  white,  for  the  water  had  washed  him  out  of  his 
new  sty,  calling  on  high  heaven  for  breakfast.  The 
front  door  had  been  forced  open,  and  the  flood  had 
registered  its  own  height  in  a  brown  dado  on  the  walls. 
Midmore  chased  the  pig  out  and  called  up  the  stairs. 

'I  be  abed  o'  course.  Which  step  'as  she  rose  to?' 
Sidney  cried  from  above.  'The  fourth  ?  Then  it's  beat 
all  records.     Come  up.' 

*Are  you  ill?'  Midmore  asked  as  he  entered  the  room. 
The  red  eyelids  bhnked  cheerfully.  Mr.  Sidney,  be- 
neath a  sumptuous  patch-work  quilt,  was  smoking. 

*Nah!  I'm  only  thankin'  God  I  ain't  my  own  land- 
lord.    Take  that  cheer.     What's  she  done?' 

'It  hasn't  gone  down  enough  for  me  to  make  sure.' 

'Them  floodgates  o'  yourn  '11  be  middlin'  far  down 
the  brook  by  now;  an'  your  rose-garden  have  gone  after 
*em.  I  saved  my  chickens,  though.  You'd  better  get 
Mus'  Sperrit  to  take  the  law  o'  Lotten  an'  'is  fish-pond.^ 

'No,  thanks.     I've  trouble  enough  without  that.' 

'Hev  ye?'  Mr.  Sidney  grinned.  'How  did  ye  make 
out  with  those  two  women  o'  mine  last  night?  I  lay 
they  fought.' 

'You  infernal  old  scoundrel!'  Midmore  laughed. 

'I  be — an'  then  again  I  hain't,'  was  the  placid  answer. 
'  But,  Rhoda,  she  wouldn't  ha'  left  me  last  night.  Fire 
or  flood,  she  wouldn't.' 

'Why  didn't  you  ever  marry  her?'  Midmore  asked. 

'Waste  of  good  money.     She  was  willin'  without.' 

There  was  a  step  on  the  gritty  mud  below,  and  a 


*MY  SON'S  WIFE'  375 

^oice  humming.     Midmore  rose  quickly  saying:    *Well, 

suppose  you're  all  right  now.' 

*I  be.  I  ain't  a  landlord,  nor  I  ain't  young — nor 
nxious.  Oh,  Mus'  Midmore!  Would  it  make  any 
dds  about  her  thirty  pounds  comin'  regular  if  I  married 
er?     Charlie  said  maybe  'twould.' 

*  Did  he  ? '  Midmore  turned  at  the  door.  *  And  what 
id  Jimmy  say  about  it?' 

'Jimmy  ^ '  Mr.  Sidney  chuckled  as  the  joke  took  him. 
Oh,  he's  none  o'  mine.     He's  Charlie's  look-out.' 

Midmore  slammed  the  door  and  ran  downstairs. 

*Well,  this  is  a — sweet — mess,'  said  Miss  Sperrit  in 
hottest  skirts  and  heaviest  riding-boots.  *I  had  to 
rome  down  and  have  a  look  at  it.  "The  old  mayor 
rlimbed  the  belfry  tower."  'Been  up  all  night  nursing 
rouv  family  ? ' 

' Nearly  that !  Isn't  it  cheerful .? '  He  pointed  through 
he  door  to  the  stairs  with  small  twig-drift  on  the  last 
hree  treads. 

'It's  a  record,  though,*  said  she,  and  hummed  to 
lerself: 

*That  flood  strewed  wrecks  upon  the  grass. 
That  ebb  swept  out  the  flocks  to  sea.' 

'You're  always  singing  that,  aren't  you?'  Midmore 
said  suddenly  as  she  passed  into  the  parlour  where  slimy 
:hairs  had  been  stranded  at  all  angles. 

*Am  I?  Now  I  come  to  think  of  it  I  believe  I  do. 
They  say  I  always  hum  when  I  ride.  Have  you  noticed 
t?' 

*0f  course  I  have.     I  notice  evtry ' 


376         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*0h/  she  went  on  hurriedly.  *We  had  it  for  th( 
village  cantata  last  winter — "The  Br  des  of  Enderby." 

*No!  "High  Tide  on  the  Coast  of  Lincolnshire/* 
For  some  reason  Midmore  spoke  sharply. 

*Just  Uke  that.  She  pointed  to  the  befouled  walls 
*Isay.  .  .  .  Let's  get  this  furniture  a  little  straight 
.     .     .     You  know  it  too?' 

*  Every  word,  since  you  sang  it  of  course.' 

'When?' 

*The  first  night  I  ever  came  down.  You  rode  pas 
the  drawing-room  window  in  the  dark  singing  it — "  An( 
sweeter  woman '  ' 

*I  thought  the  house  was  empty  then.  Your  aun 
always  let  us  use  that  short  cut  Ha-hadn't  we  bette: 
get  this  out  into  the  passage?  It'll  all  have  to  come  ou 
anyhow.  You  take  the  other  side.'  They  began  tc 
lift  a  heavyish  table.  Their  words  came  jerkily  be 
tween  gasps  and  their  faces  were  as  white  as — a  newl] 
washed  and  very  hungry  pig. 

'Look  out!'  Midmore  shouted.  His  legs  were  whirlec 
from  under  him,  as  the  table,  grunting  madly,  careenec 
and  knocked  the  girl  out  of  sight. 

The  wild  boar  of  Asia  could  not  have  cut  down  j 
couple  more  scientifically,  but  this  little  pig  lacked  hi: 
ancestor's  nerve  and  fled  shrieking  over  their  bodies. 

*Are  you  hurt,  darling?'  was  Midmore's  first  word 
and  *No — I'm  only  winded — dear,'  was  Miss  Sperrit's 
as  he  lifted  her  out  of  her  corner,  her  hat  over  one  ey< 
and  her  right  cheek  a  smear  of  mud. 


'MY  SON'S  WIFE'  377 

They  fed  him  a  Httle  later  on  some  chicken-feed  that 
hey  found  in  Sidney's  quiet  barn,  a  pail  of  buttermilk 
ut  of  the  dairy,  and  a  quantity  of  onions  from  a  shelf 
1  the  back-kitchen. 

*  Seed-onions,  most  likely,'  said  Connie.  *  You'll  hear 
bout  this.' 

*What  does  it  matter.?  They  ought  to  have  been 
ilded.     We  must  buy  him.' 

*And  keep  him  as  long  as  he  lives,'  she  agreed.    *But 

think  I  ought  to  go  home  now.  You  see,  when  I 
ame  out  I  didn't  expect     .     .     .     Did  you?' 

*No!  Yes.  ...  It  had  to  come.  .  .  .  But 
'  any  one  had  told  me  an  hour  ago!  .  .  .  Sidney's 
nspeakable  parlour — and  the  mud  on  the  carpet/ 

*0h,  I  say!     Is  my  cheek  clean  now?' 

*Not  quite.  Lend  me  your  hanky  again  a  minute, 
arling.     .     .     .     What  a  purler  you  came!' 

*  You  can't  talk.  'Remember  when  your  chin  hit  that 
able  and  you  said  " blast " !     I  was  just  going  to  laugh.' 

*You  didn't  laugh  when  I  picked  you  up.  You  were 
oing  "00-00-00"  like  a  little  owl.* 

*My  dear  child ' 

*Say  that  again!' 

*My  dear  child.  (Do  you  really  like  it?  I  keep  it 
)r  my  best  friends.)  My  dee-ar  child,  I  thought  I  was 
oing  to  be  sick  there  and  then.  He  knocked  every 
unce  of  wind  out  of  me — the  angel !  But  I  must  really 
o.' 

They  set  off  together,  very  careful  not  to  join  hands 

take  arms. 


378         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Not  across  the  fields,'  said  Midmore  at  the  stil 
'Come  round  by — by  your  own  place/ 

She  flushed  indignantly. 

*It  will  be  yours  in  a  little  time/  he  went  on,  shake 
with  his  own  audacity. 

'Not  so  much  of  your  little  times,  if  you  please 
She  shied  Hke  a  colt  across  the  road;  then  instantl) 
like  a  colt,  her  eyes  lit  with  new  curiosity  as  she  cam 
in  sight  of  the  drive-gates. 

'And  not  quite  so  much  of  your  airs  and  gracei 
Madam,'  Midmore  returned,  'or  I  won't  let  you  u 
our  drive  as  a  short  cut  any  more.* 

*0h,  I'll  be  good.  I'll  be  good.'  Her  voice  changed 
suddenly.  *I  swear  I'll  try  to  be  good,  dear.  I'm  not 
much  of  a  thing  at  the  best.     What  made  you    .     .     .' 

'I'm  worse — worse!  Miles  and  oceans  worse.  But 
what  does  it  matter  now?' 

They  halted  beside  the  gate-pillars. 

*I  see!'  she  said,  looking  up  the  sodden  carriage  sweep 
to  the  front  door  porch  where  Rhoda  was  slapping  a 
wet  mat  to  and  fro.  *7  see.  .  .  .  Now,  I  really 
must  go  home.  No!  Don't  you  come.  I  must  speak 
to  Mother  first  all  by  myself.' 

He  watched  her  up  the  hill  till  she  was  out  of  sight. 


THE  FLOODS 

The  rain  it  rains  without  a  stay 

In  the  hills  above  us,  in  the  hills; 
And  presently  the  floods  break  way 

Whose  strength  is  in  the  hills. 
The  trees  they  suck  from  every  cloud, 
The  valley  brooks  they  roar  aloud — 
Bank-high  for  the  lowlands,  lowlands, 
Lowlands  under  the  hills! 

The  first  wood  down  is  sere  and  small. 

From  the  hills,  the  brishings  off  the  hills; 
And  then  come  by  the  bats  and  all 

We  cut  last  year  in  the  hills; 
And  then  the  roots  we  tried  to  cleave 
But  found  too  tough  and  had  to  leave — 
Poking  through  the  lowlands,  lowlands. 
Lowlands  under  the  hills! 

The  eye  shall  look,  the  ear  shall  hark 
To  the  hills,  the  doings  in  the  hills, 

And  rivers  mating  in  the  dark 
With  tokens  from  the  hills. 

Now  what  is  weak  will  surely  go. 

And  what  is  strong  must  prove  it  so. 

Stand  fast  in  the  lowlands,  lowlands. 
Lowlands  under  the  hills! 
379 


38o         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

The  floods  they  shall  not  be  afraid — 
Nor  the  hills  above  'em,  nor  the  hills — 

Of  any  fence  which  man  has  made 
Betwixt  him  and  the  hills. 

The  waters  shall  not  reckon  twice 
*     For  any  work  of  man's  device, 

But  bid  it  down  to  the  lowlands,  lowlands, 
Lowlands  under  the  hills! 

The  floods  shall  sweep  corruption  clean — 
By  the  hills,  the  blessing  of  the  hills — 
That  more  the  meadows  may  be  green 

New-amended  from  the  hills. 
The  crops  and  cattle  shall  increase, 
Nor  little  children  shall  not  cease — 
Go — plough  the  lowlands,  lowlands. 
Lowlands  under  the  hills ! 


f 


THE  FABULISTS 

iNhen  all  the  world  would  have  a  matter  hid, 
i    Since  Truth  is  seldom  friend  to  any  crowd, 
'Men  write  in  fable,  as  old  iEsop  did, 
j    Jesting  at  that  which  none  will  name  aloud. 
ji\nd  this  they  needs  must  do,  or  it  will  fall 
(Unless  they  please  they  are  not  heard  at  all. 

(VVhen  desperate  Folly  daily  laboureth 
To  work  confusion  upon  all  we  have, 
hen  diligent  Sloth  demandeth  Freedom's  death, 
And  banded  Fear  commandeth  Honour's  grave— 
Lven  in  that  certain  hour  before  the  fall 

Unless  men  please  they  are  not  heard  at  all. 

f^eeds  must  all  please,  yet  some  not  all  for  need 
Needs  must  all  toil,  yet  some  not  all  for  gain, 

But  that  men  taking  pleasure  may  take  heed. 
Whom  present  toil  shall  snatch  from  later  pain. 

Thus  some  have  toiled  but  their  reward  was  small 

Since,  though  they  pleased,  they  were  not  heard  at  all. 

This  was  the  lock  that  lay  upon  our  lips. 
This  was  the  yoke  that  we  have  undergone, 

Denying  us  all  pleasant  fellowships 
As  in  our  time  and  generation. 

Our  pleasures  unpursued  age  past  recall. 

And  for  our  pains — ^we  are  not  heard  at  all. 

381 


382         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

What  man  hears  aught  except  the  groaning  guns  ? 

What  man  heeds  aught  save  what  each  instant  brings  ? 
When  each  man's  life  all  imaged  Hfe  outruns. 

What  man  shall  pleasure  in  imaginings  ? 
So  it  hath  fallen,  as  it  was  bound  to  fall, 
We  are  not,  nor  we  were  not,  heard  at  all. 


The  Vortex 

(August  1914) 

*Thy  Lord  spoke  by  inspiration  to  the  Bee/ 

Al  Koran. 

HAVE,  to  my  grief  and  loss,  suppressed  several  notable 
tories  of  my  friend,  the  Hon.  A.  M.  Penfentenyou,^ 
mce  Minister  of  Woods  and  Waysides  in  De  Thouar's 
irst  administration;  later,  Premier  in  all  but  name  of 
)ne  of  Our  great  and  growing  Dominions;  and  now,  as 
Iways,  the  idol  of  his  own  Province,  which  is  two  and 
)ne-half  the  size  of  England. 

For  this  reason  I  hold  myself  at  liberty  to  deal  with 
ome  portion  of  the  truth  concerning  Penfentenyou's 
atest  visit  to  Our  shores.  He  arrived  at  my  house  by 
ar,  on  a  hot  summer  day,  in  a  white  waistcoat  and 
pats,  sweeping  black  frock-coat  and  glistening  top-hat 
— a  little  rounded,  perhaps,  at  the  edges,  but  agile  as 
ever  in  mind  and  body. 

'What  is  the  trouble  now?'  I  asked,  for  the  last  time 
we  had  met,  Penfentenyou  was  floating  a  three-million 
pound  loan  for  his  beloved  but  unscrupulous  Province, 
and  I  did  not  wish  to  entertain  any  more  of  his  financial 
friends. 

*We,'  Penfentenyou  replied  ambassadorially,  *have 
^See  *The  Puzzler,*  Jettons  and  Reactions, 

383 


384         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

come  to  have  a  Voice  in  Your  Councils.     By  the  wa> 
the  Voice  is  coming  down  on  the  evening  train  with  m^ 
Agent-General.     I   thought   you   wouldn't   mind   if 
invited  'em.     You  know  We're  going  to  share  You 
burdens  henceforward.     You'd  better  get  into  training. 
'Certainly,'  I  replied.     'What's  the  Voice  like.?'       \ 
'He's  in  earnest,'  said  Penfentenyou.     *He's  got  It! 
and  he's  got  It  bad.     He'll  give  It  to  you/  he  said. 
'What's  his  name.?' 

'We  call  him  all  sorts  of  names,  but  I  think  you'd 
better  call  him  Mr.  Lingnam.  You  won't  have  to  dq 
it  more  than  once.' 

'What's  he  suffering  from.?' 

'The  Empire.     He's  pretty  nearly  cured  us  all  of 
Imperialism  at  home.     P'raps  he'll  cure  you.' 
'Very  good.     What  am  I  to  do  with  him.? ' 
'Don't  you  worry,'  said  Penfentenyou.    *He'll  do  it.' 
And  when  Mr.  Lingnam  appeared  half-an-hour  later 
with  the  Agent-General  for  Penfentenyou's  Dominion, 
he  did  just  that. 

He  advanced  across  the  lawn  eloquent  as  all  the  tides. 
He  said  he  had  been  observing  to  the  Agent-General 
that  it  was  both  poHtically  immoral  and  strategically 
unsound  that  forty-four  million  people  should  bear  the 
entire  weight  of  the  defences  of  Our  mighty  Empire, 
but,  as  he  had  observed  (here  the  Agent-General 
evaporated),  we  stood  now  upon  the  threshold  of  a  new 
era  in  which  the  self-governing  and  self-respecting  (bis) 
Dominions  would  rightly  and  righteously,  as  co-part- 
ners in  Empery,  shoulder  their  share  of  any  burden 


THE  VORTEX  385 

irhich  the  Pan-Imperial  Council  of  the  Future  should 
Hot.  The  Agent-General  was  already  arranging  for 
rinks  with  Penfentenyou  at  the  other  end  of  the  gar- 
en.  Mr.  Lingnam  swept  me  on  to  the  most  remote 
ench  and  settled  to  his  theme. 

We  dined  at  eight.  At  nine  Mr.  Lingnam  was  only 
rawing  abreast  of  things  Imperial.  At  ten  the  Agent- 
jeneral,  who  earns  his  salary,  was  shamelessly  dozing 
n  the  sofa.  At  eleven  he  and  Penfentenyou  went  to 
ed.  At  midnight  Mr.  Lingnam  brought  down  his 
ig-bellied  despatch  box  with  the  newspaper  clippings 
nd  set  to  federating  the  Empire  in  earnest.  I  remem- 
er  that  he  had  three  alternative  plans.  As  a  dealer  in 
rords,  I  plumped  for  the  resonant  third — *  Reciprocally 
o-ordinated  Senatorial  Hegemony' — ^which  he  then 
laborated  in  detail  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  At 
alf-past  one  he  urged  me  to  have  faith  and  to  remember 
lat  nothing  mattered  except  the  Idea.  Then  he  re- 
ired  to  his  room,  accompanied  by  one  glass  of  cold 
rater,  and  I  went  into  the  dawn-lit  garden  and  prayed 
0  any  Power  that  might  be  off  duty  for  the  blood  of 
'Ir.  Lingnam,  Penfentenyou,  and  the  Agent-General. 

To  me,  as  I  have  often  observed  elsewhere,  the  hour 
f  earliest  dawn  is  fortunate,  and  the  wind  that  runs 
efore  it  has  ever  been  my  most  comfortable  counsellor. 

*Wait!'  it  said,  all  among  the  night's  expectant  rose- 
uds.  *  To-morrow  is  also  a  day.  Wait  upon  the 
Cvent!' 

I  went  to  bed  so  at  peace  with  God  and  Man  and 
juest  that  when  I  waked  I  visited  Mr.  Lingnam  in 


386         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

pyjamas,  and  he  talked  to  me  Pan-Imperially  for  half- 
an-hour  before  his  bath.  Later,  the  Agent-General 
said  he  had  letters  to  write,  and  Penfentenyou  invented 
a  Cabinet  crisis  in  his  adored  Dominion  which  woulc 
keep  him  busy  with  codes  and  cables  all  the  forenoon, 
But  I  said  firmly,  *Mr.  Lingnam  wishes  to  see  a  little 
of  the  country  round  here.  You  are  coming  with  us  ii 
your  own  car.' 

*It's  a  hired  one,'  Penfentenyou  objected. 

*Yes.     Paid  for  by  me  as  a  taxpayer,'  I  replied. 

*And  yours  has  a  top,  and  the  weather  looks  thun 
dery,'  said  the  Agent-General.  *Ours  hasn't  a  wine 
screen.     Even  our  goggles  were  hired.' 

'I'll  lend  you  goggles,'  I  said.  *My  car  is  unde 
repairs.' 

The  hireling  who  had  looked  to  be  returned  to  Londo 
spat  and  growled  on  the  drive.     She  was  an  open  car 
capable  of  some  eighteen  miles  on  the  flat,  with  tetanic 
gears  and  a  perpetual  palsy. 

*It  won't  make  the  least  difference,'  sighed  the  Agent- 
General.  *  He'll  only  raise  his  voice.  He  did  it  all  the 
way  coming  down.' 

*I  say,'  said  Penfentenyou  suspiciously,  'what  are 
you  doing  all  this  for?' 

*Love  of  the  Empire,'  I  answered,  as  Mr.  Lingnam 
tripped  up  in  dust-coat  and  binoculars.  *Now,  Mr. 
Lingnam  will  tell  us  exactly  what  he  wants  to  see.  He 
probably  knows  more  about  England  than  the  rest  of 
us  put  together.' 

*I  read  it  up  yesterday,'  said  Mr.  Lingnam  simply. 


THE  VORTEX  387 

^hile  we  stowed  the  lunch-basket  (one  can  never  make 
lO  sure  with  a  hired  car)  he  outlined  a  very  pretty 
id  instructive  little  day's  run. 

'You'll  drive,  of  course?'  said  Penfentenyou  to  him. 
t's  the  only  thing  you  know  anything  about.' 
This  astonished  me,  for  your  greater  Federationists 
e  rarely  mechanicians,  but  Mr.  Lingnam  said  he 
ould  prefer  to  be  inside  for  the  present  and  enjoy  our 
>nversation. 

Well  settled  on  the  back  seat,  he  did  not  once  lift  his 
res  to  the  mellow  landscape  around  him,  or  throw  a 
ord  at  the  life  of  the  English  road  which  to  me  is  one 
newed  and  unreasoned  orgy  of  deUght.  The  mustard- 
>loured  scouts  of  the  Automobile  Association;  their 
itural  enemies,  the  unjust  poHce;  our  natural  enemies, 
le  deliberate  market-day  cattle,  broadside-on  at  all 
)rners,  the  bicycling  butcher-boy  a  furlong  behind; 
>ad-engines  that  pulled  giddy-go-rounds,  rifle  galleries, 
id  swings,  and  sucked  snortingly  from  wayside  ponds 
I  defiance  of  the  notice-board;  traction-engines,  their 
ailers  piled  high  with  road  metal;  uniformed  village 
Lirses,  one  per  seven  statute  miles,  flitting  by  on  their 
heels;  governess-carts  full  of  pink  children  jogging 
nconcernedly  past  roaring,  brazen  touring-cars;  the 
ayside  rector  with  virgins  in  attendance,  their  faces 
:rewed  up  against  our  dust;  motor-bicycles  of  every 
lape  charging  down  at  every  angle;  red  flags  of  rifle- 
mges;  detachments  of  dusty-putteed  Territorials; 
Dveys  of  flagrant  children  playing  in  mid-street,  and 
le  wise,  educated  English  dog  safe  and  quite  silent  on 


388         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 


I 


the  pavement  if  his  fool-mistress  would  but  cease  from 
trying  to  save  him,  passed  and  repassed  us  in  sunlit  or 
shaded  settings.     But  Mr.  Lingnam  only  talked.     He 
talked — ^we  all  sat  together  behind  so  that  we  could  not 
escape  him — and  he  talked  above  the  worn  gears  and  a 
certain  maddening  swish  of  one  badly  patched  tire — 
and  he  talked  of  the  Federation  of  the  Empire  against] 
all    conceivable   dangers   except   himself.     Yet   I  was| 
neither  brutally  rude  Hke  Penfentenyou,  nor  swooninglyi 
bored  like  the  Agent-General.     I  remembered  a  certain  \ 
Joseph  Finsbury  who  delighted  the  Tregonwell  Arms  on  J 
the  borders  of  the  New  Forest  with    nine ' — it  should  \ 
have  been  ten — 'versions  of  a  single  income  of  twoi 
hundred  pounds'  placing  the  imaginary  person  in — but| 
I  could  not  recall  the  list  of  towns  further  than  'London,  j 
Paris,  Bagdad,  and  Spitzbergen.'     This  last  I  must  have " 
murmured  aloud,  for  the  Agent-General  suddenly  be- 
came human  and  went  on :     *  Bussorah,  HeHgoland,  and 
the  Scilly  Islands ' 

*What?'  growled  Penfentenyou. 

'Nothing,'  said  the  Agent-General,  squeezing  my 
hand  affectionately.  'Only  we  have  just  found  out 
that  we  are  brothers.' 

"Exactly,'  said  Mr.  Lingnam.  'That's  what  I've 
been  trying  to  lead  up  to.  We're  <^// brothers.  D'you 
realise  that  fifteen  years  ago  such  a  conversation  as 
we're  having  would  have  been  unthinkable.?  The  Em- 
pire wouldn't  have  been  ripe  for  it.  To  go  back,  even 
ten  years ' 

'I've  got  it,'  cried  the  Agent-General.     '"Brighton, 


THE  VORTEX  389 

'incinnati,  and  Nijni-Novgorod!"  God  bless  R.  L.  S.  ! 
ro  on,  Uncle  Joseph.     I  can  endure  much  now.* 

Mr.  Lingnam  went  on  like  our  shandrydan,  slowly 
nd  loudly.  He  admitted  that  a  man  obsessed  with  a 
'entral  Idea — and,  after  all,  the  only  thing  that  mat- 
ered  was  the  Idea — might  become  a  bore,  but  the 
World's  Work,  he  pointed  out,  had  been  done  by  bores. 

0  he  laid  his  bones  down  to  that  work  till  we  abandoned 
urselves  to  the  passage  of  time  and  the  Mercy  of 
Jlah,  Who  Alone  closes  the  Mouths  of  His  Prophets. 
Lnd  we  wasted  more  than  fifty  miles  of  summer's  vivid 
wn  England  upon  him  the  while. 

About  two  o'clock  we  topped  Sumtner  Rising  and 
)oked  down  on  the  village  of  Sumtner  Barton,  which 
es  just  across  a  single  railway  line,  spanned  by  a  red 
rick  bridge.  The  thick,  thunderous  June  airs  brought 
s  gusts  of  melody  from  a  giddy-go-round  steam-organ 

1  full  blast  near  the  pond  on  the  village  green.  Drums, 
00,  thumped  and  banners  waved  and  regaHa  flashed 
t  the  far  end  of  the  broad  village  street.  Mr.  Lingnam 
sked  why. 

'Nothing  Imperial,  Fm  afraid.  It  looks  Hke  a 
foresters'  Fete — one  of  our  big  Mutual  Benefit  So- 
ieties,'  I  explained. 

'The  Idea  only  needs  to  be  co-ordinated  to  Imperial 
cale '  he  began. 

*But  it  means  that  the  pub.  will  be  crowded,'  I  went  on. 

'What's  the  matter  with  lunching  by  the  roadside 
lere?'  said  Penfentenyou.  'We've  got  the  lunch- 
)asket.' 


390         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Haven't  you  ever  heard  of  Sumtner  Barton  ales?' 
I  demanded,  and  be  became  the  administrator  at  once 
saying,  */  see!  Lingnam  can  drive  us  in  and  we'll  gei 
some,  while  Holford' — this  was  the  hireling  chauffeur 
whose  views  on  beer  we  knew  not — 'lays  out  lunch  here 
That'll  be  better  than  eating  at  the  pub.  We  can  take 
in  the  Foresters'  Fete  as  well,  and  perhaps  I  can  bu} 
some  newspapers  at  the  station.' 

'True,'  I  answered.  'The  railway  station  is  jusi 
under  that  bridge,  and  we'll  come  back  and  lunch  here. 

I  indicated  a  terrace  of  cool  clean  shade  beneatl 
kindly  beeches  at  the  head  of  Sumtner  Rise.  As  Hoi 
ford  got  out  the  lunch-basket,  a  detachment  of  Regulai 
troops  on  manoeuvres  swung  down  the  baking  road 

*Ah!'  said  Mr.  Lingnam,  the  monthly-magazine  rol 
in  his  voice.  'All  Europe  is  an  armed  camp,  groaning 
as  I  remember  I  once  wrote,  under  the  weight  of  iti 
accoutrements.' 

'Oh,  hop  in  and  drive,'  cried  Penfentenyou.  'W< 
want  that  beer!' 

It  made  no  difference.  Mr.  Lingnam  could  have 
federated  the  Empire  from  a  tight  rope.  He  continued 
his  oration  at  the  wheel  as  we  trundled. 

'The  danger  to  the  Younger  Nations  is  of  being  drawr 
into  this  vortex  of  Militarism,'  he  went  on,  dodging 
the  rear  of  the  soldiery. 

'Slow  past  troops,'  I  hinted.  'It  saves  'em  dust 
And  we  overtake  on  the  right  as  a  rule  in  England.' 

'Thanks!'  Mr.  Lingnam  slued  over.  'That's  anothei 
detail  which  needs  to  be  co-ordinated  throughout  the 


THE  VORTEX  391 

mpire.  But  to  go  back  to  what  I  was  saying.  My 
lea  has  always  been  that  the  component  parts  of  the 
Empire  should  take  counsel  among  themselves  on  the 
pproach  of  war,  so  that,  after  we  have  decided  on  the 
lerits  of  the  casus  helliy  we  can  co-ordinate  what  part 
ach  Dominion  shall  play  whenever  war  is,  unfortu- 
ately,  a  possibility.' 

We  neared  the  hog-back  railway  bridge,  and  the 
irehng  knocked  piteously  at  the  grade.  Mr.  Lingnam 
hanged  gears,  and  she  hoisted  herself  up  to  a  joyous 
^oup-i-addy-i^ay  I  from  the  steam-organ.  As  we  topped 
he  arch  we  saw  a  Foresters*  band  with  banners  march- 
ng  down  the  street. 

'That's  all  very  fine,'  said  the  Agent-General,  *but 
n  real  life  things  have  a  knack  of  happening  without 
ipproaching ' 

(Some  schools  of  Thought  hold  that  Time  is  not; 
md  that  when  we  attain  complete  enlightenment  we 
ihall  behold  past,  present,  and  future  as  One  Awful 
A^hole.     I  myself  have  nearly  achieved  this.) 

We  dipped  over  the  bridge  into  the  village.  A  boy 
)n  a  bicycle,  loaded  with  four  paper  bonnet-boxes, 
)edalled  towards  us,  out  of  an  alley  on  our  right.  He 
)owed  his  head  the  better  to  overcome  the  ascent,  and 
laturally  took  his  left.  Mr.  Lingnam  swerved  franti- 
:ally  to  the  right.  Penfentenyou  shouted.  The  boy 
ooked  up,  saw  the  car  was  like  to  squeeze  him  against 
he  bridge  wall,  flung  himself  off  his  machine  and  across 


392         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

the  narrow  pavement  into  the  nearest  house.  Hr 
slammed  the  door  at  the  precise  moment  when  the  carij 
all  brakes  set,  bunted  the  abandoned  bicycle,  shattering 
three  of  the  bonnet-boxes  and  jerking  the  fourth  ovei 
the  unscreened  dashboard  into  Mr.  Lingnam's  arms. 

There  was  a  dead  stillness,  then  a  hiss  like  that  oi 
escaping  steam,  and  a  man  who  had  been  running  toi 
wards  us  ran  the  other  way. 

*Whyl  I  think  that  those  must  be  bees,'  said  Mr. 
Lingnam. 

They  were — four  full  swarms — and  the  first  living 
objects  which  he  had  remarked  upon  all  day. 

Some  one  said,  *0h,  God!'  The  Agent-General 
went  out  over  the  back  of  the  car,  crying  resolutely: 
*Stop  the  traffic!  Stop  the  traffic,  there!'  Penfenten- 
you  was  already  on  the  pavement  ringing  a  door-bell,  so 
I  had  both  their  rugs,  which — for  I  am  an  apiarist — I 
threw  over  my  head.  While  I  was  tucking  my  trousers 
into  my  socks — for  I  am  an  apiarist  of  experience — Mr. 
Lingnam  picked  up  the  unexploded  bonnet-box  and 
with  a  single  magnificent  gesture  (he  told  us  afterwards 
he  thought  there  was  a  river  beneath)  hurled  it  over  the 
parapet  of  the  bridge,  ere  he  ran  across  the  road  towards 
the  village  green.  Now,  the  station  platform  immedi- 
ately below  was  crowded  with  Foresters  and  their 
friends  waiting  to  welcome  a  delegation  from  a  sister 
Court.  I  saw  the  box  burst  on  the  flint  edging  of  the 
station  garden  and  the  contents  sweep  forward  cone- 
wise  like  shrapnel.  But  the  result  was  stimulating 
rather  than  sedative.     All  those  well-dressed  people 


THE  VORTEX  393 

below  shouted  like  Sodom  and  Gomorrah.  Then  they 
moved  as  a  unit  into  the  booking-office,  the  waiting- 
g  rooms,  and  other  places,  shut  doors  and  windows  and 
declaimed  aloud,  while  the  incoming  train  whistled 
far  down  the  line. 

I  pivoted  round  cross-legged  on  the  back  seat,  like  a 
Circassian  beauty  beneath  her  veil,  and  saw  Penfenten- 
3'ou,  his  coat-collar  over  his  ears,  dancing  before  a  shut 
door  and  holding  up  handfuls  of  currency  to  a  silver- 
haired  woman  at  an  upper  window,  who  only  mouthed 
and  shook  her  head.  A  little  child,  carrying  a  kitten, 
came  smiling  round  a  corner.  Suddenly  (but  these 
things  moved  me  no  more  than  so  many  yards  of  three- 
penny cinematograph-film)  the  kitten  leaped  spitting 
from  her  arms,  the  child  burst  into  tears,  Penfentenyou, 
still  dancing,  snatched  her  up  and  tucked  her  under  his 
coat,  the  woman's  countenance  blanched,  the  front 
door  opened,  Penfentenyou  and  the  child  pressed 
through,  and  I  was  alone  in  an  inhospitable  world 
where  every  one  was  shutting  windows  and  calling 
children  home. 

A  voice  cried:  'You've  frowtened  'em!  You've 
frowtened  'em!     Throw  dust  on  'em  and  they'll  settle!' 

I  did  not  desire  to  throw  dust  on  any  created  thing. 
I  needed  both  hands  for  my  draperies  and  two  more 
for  my  stockings.  Besides,  the  bees  were  doing  me  no 
hurt.  They  recognised  me  as  a  member  of  the  County 
Bee-keepers'  Association  who  had  paid  his  annual  sub- 
scription and  was  entitled  to  a  free  seat  at  all  apicultural 
exhibitions.     The  quiver  and  the  churn  of  the  hireling 


394        A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

car,  or  it  might  have  been  the  lurching  banners  and  the 
arrogant  big  drum,  incHned  many  of  them  to  go  up 
street,  and  pay  court  to  the  advancing  Foresters'  band. 
So  they  went,  such  as  had  not  followed  Mr.  Lingnam 
in  his  flight  toward  the  green,  and  I  looked  out  of  two 
goggled  eyes  instead  of  half  a  one  at  the  approaching 
musicians,  while  I  Hstened  with  both  ears  to  the  delayed 
train's  second  whistle  down  the  line  beneath  me. 

The  Forester's  band  no  more  knew  what  was  coming 
than  do  troops  under  sudden  fire.  Indeed,  there  were 
the  same  extravagant  gestures  and  contortions  as 
attend  wounds  and  deaths  in  war;  the  very  same  un- 
canny cessations  of  speech — for  the  trombone  was  cut 
off  at  midslide,  even  as  a  man  drops  with  a  syllable  on 
his  tongue.  They  clawed,  they  slapped,  they  fled, 
leaving  behind  them  a  trophy  of  banners  and  brasses 
crudely  arranged  round  the  big  drum.  Then  that  end 
of  the  street  also  shut  its  windows,  and  the  village, 
stripped  of  life,  lay  round  me  like  a  reef  at  low  tide. 
Though  I  am,  as  I  have  said,  an  apiarist  in  good  stand- 
ing, I  never  reahsed  that  there  were  so  many  bees  in 
the  world.  When  they  had  woven  a  flashing  haze  from 
one  end  of  the  desert  street  to  the  other,  there  remained 
reserves  enough  to  form  knops  and  pendules  on  all 
window-sills  and  gutter-ends,  without  diminishing  the 
multitudes  in  the  three  oozing  bonnet-boxes,  or  drawing 
on  the  Fourth  (Railway)  Battalion  in  charge  of  the 
station  below.  The  prisoners  in  the  waiting-rooms  and 
other  places  there  cried  out  a  great  deal  (I  argued  that 
they  were  dying  of  the  heat),  and  at  regular  intervals 


THE  VORTEX  395 

he  stationmaster  called  and  called  to  a  signalman  who 
¥as  not  on  duty,  and  the  train  whistled  as  it  drew 
learer. 

Then  Penfentenyou,  venal  and  adaptable  politician 
)f  the  type  that  survives  at  the  price  of  all  the  higher 
amotions,  appeared  at  the  window  of  the  house  on  my 
ight,  broken  and  congested  with  mirth,  the  woman 
)eside  him,  and  the  child  in  his  arms.  I  saw  his  mouth 
)pen  and  shut,  he  hollowed  his  hands  round  it,  but  the 
:hurr  of  the  motor  and  the  bees  drowned  his  words. 
rie  pointed  dramatically  across  the  street  many  times 
md  fell  back,  tears  running  down  his  face.  I  turned 
ike  a  hooded  barbette  in  a  heavy  seaway  (not  knowing 
vhen  my  trousers  would  come  out  of  my  socks  again) 
ihrough  one  hundred  and  eighty  degrees,  and  in  due 
:ime  bore  on  the  village  green.  There  was  a  salmon  in 
:he  pond,  rising  short  at  a  cloud  of  midges  to  the  tune  of 
Yip-i-addy;  but  there  was  none  to  gafF  him.  The 
>wing-boats  were  empty,  cocoa-nuts  sat  still  on  their 
■ed  sticks  before  white  screens,  and  the  gay-painted 
lorses  of  the  giddy-go-rounds  revolved  riderless.  All 
^as  melody,  green  turf,  bright  water,  and  this  greedy 
gambolling  fish.  When  I  had  identified  it  by  its  grey 
^ills  and  binoculars  as  Lingnam,  I  prostrated  myself 
before  Allah  in  that  mirth  which  is  more  truly  labour 
:han  any  prayer.  Then  I  turned  to  the  purple  Pen- 
'entenyou  at  the  window,  and  wiped  my  eyes  on  the 
•ug  edge. 

He  raised  the  window  half  one  cautious  inch  and 
)ellowed  through  the  crack:    *  Did  you  see  him  ?    Have 


396         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

they  got  you  ?    I  can  see  lots  of  things  from  here.     It's 
Hke  a  three-ring  circus ! '  <H 

*Can  you  see  the  station?'  I  replied,  nodding  toward 
the  right  rear  mudguard. 

He  twisted  and  craned  sideways,  but  could  not  com- 
mand that  beautiful  view. 

*No!    What's  it  like.?' he  cried. 

*Hell!'  I  shouted.  The  silver-haired  woman 
frowned;  so  did  Penfentenyou,  and,  I  think,  apologised 
to  her  for  my  language. 

*  You're  always  so  extreme,'  he  fluted  reproachfully. 
*You  forget  that  nothing  matters  except  the  Idea. 
Besides,  they  are  this  lady's  bees.' 

He  closed  the  window,  and  introduced  us  through  it 
in  dumb  show;  but  he  contrived  to  give  the  impression 
that  /  was  the  specimen  under  glass. 

A  spurt  of  damp  steam  saved  me  from  apoplexy. 
The  train  had  lost  patience  at  last,  and  was  coming  into 
the  station  directly  beneath  me  to  see  what  was  the 
matter.  Happy  voices  sang  and  heads  were  thrust 
out  all  along  the  compartments,  but  none  answered 
their  songs  or  greetings.  She  halted,  and  the  people 
began  to  get  out.  Then  they  began  to  get  in  again,  as 
their  friends  in  the  waiting-rooms  advised.  All  did 
not  catch  the  warning,  so  there  was  congestion  at  the 
doors,  but  those  whom  the  bees  caught  got  in  first. 

Still  the  bees,  more  bent  on  their  own  business  than 
wanton  torture,  kept  to  the  south  end  of  the  platform 
by  the  bookstall,  and  that  was  why  the  completely 
exposed  engine-driver  at  the  north  end  of  the  train  did 


THE  VORTEX  397 

not  at  first  understand  the  hermetically  sealed  station- 
master  when  the  latter  shouted  to  him  many  times  to 
*get  on  out  o'  this.* 

*  Where  are  you?'  was  the  reply.     *And  what  for?* 

*It  don't  matter  where  I  am,  an*  you'll  get  what-for 
in  a  minute  if  you  don't  shift,'  said  the  stationmaster. 
*Drop  'em  at  Parson's  Meadow  and  they  can  walk  up 
over  the  fields.' 

That  bare-armed,  thin-shirted  idiot,  leaning  out  of 
the  cab,  took  the  stationmaster's  orders  as  an  insult 
to  his  dignity,  and  roared  at  the  shut  oflfices:  *  You'll 
give  me  what-for,  will  you?     Look  'ere,  I'm  not  in  the 

'abit  of '     His  outstretched  hand  flew  to  his  neck. 

.  .  .  Do  you  know  that  if  you  sting  an  engine-driver 
it  is  the  same  as  stinging  his  train  ?  She  starts  with  a 
jerk  that  nearly  smashes  the  couplings,  and  runs,  bark- 
ing like  a  dog,  till  she  is  out  of  sight.  Nor  does  she 
think  about  spilled  people  and  parted  families  on  the 
platform  behind  her.  I  had  to  do  all  that.  There 
was  a  man  called  Fred,  and  his  wife  Harriet — a  cheery, 
full-blooded  couple — who  interested  me  immensely 
before  they  battered  their  way  into  a  small  detached 
building,  already  densely  occupied.  There  was  also  a 
nameless  bachelor  who  sat  under  a  half-opened  umbrella 
and  twirled  it  dizzily,  which  was  so  new  a  game  that  I 
applauded  aloud. 

When  they  had  thoroughly  cleared  the  ground,  the 
bees  set  about  making  comb  for  publication  at  the 
bookstall  counter.  Presently  some  bold  hearts  tiptoed 
out  of  the  waiting-rooms  over  the  loud  gravel  with  the 


398         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

consciously  modest  air  of  men  leaving  church,  climbed 
the  wooden  staircase  to  the  bridge,  and  so  reached  my 
level,  where  the  inexhaustible  bonnet-boxes  were  still 
vomiting  squadrons  and  platoons.  There  was  little 
need  to  bid  them  descend.  They  had  wrapped  their 
heads  in  handkerchiefs,  so  that  they  looked  Hke  the 
disappointed  dead  scuttling  back  to  Purgatory.  Only 
one  old  gentleman,  pontifically  draped  in  a  banner 
embroidered  'Temperance  and  Fortitude,'  ran  the 
gauntlet  up-street,  shouting  as  he  passed  me,  *It*s  night 
or  Bliicher,  Mister.'  They  let  him  in  at  the  White 
Hart,  the  pub.  where  I  should  have  bought  the  beer. 

After  this  the  day  sagged.  I  fell  to  reckoning  how 
long  a  man  in  a  Turkish  bath,  weakened  by  excessive 
laughter,  could  live  without  food,  and  specially  drink; 
and  how  long  a  disenfranchised  bee  could  hold  out  under 
the  same  conditions. 

Obviously,  since  her  one  practical  joke  costs  her  her 
life,  the  bee  can  have  but  small  sense  of  humour;  but 
her  fundamentally  dismal  and  ungracious  outlook  on 
life  impressed  me  beyond  words.  She  had  paralysed 
locomotion,  wiped  out  trade,  social  intercourse,  mutual 
trust,  love,  friendship,  sport,  music  (the  lonely  steam- 
organ  had  run  down  at  last),  all  that  gives  substance, 
colour  or  savour  to  life,  and  yet,  in  the  barren  desert 
she  had  created,  was  not  one  whit  more  near  to  the 
evolution  of  a  saner  order  of  things.  The  Heavens  were 
darkened  with  the  swarms'  divided  counsels;  the  street 
shimmered  with  their  purposeless  sallies.  They  clotted 
on  tiles  and  gutter-pipes,  and  began  frenziedly  to  build 


THE  VORTEX  399 

a  cell  or  two  of  comb  ere  they  discovered  that  their 
queen  was  not  with  them;  then  flung  off  to  seek  her,  or 
whirled,  dishevelled  and  insane,  into  another  hissing 
nebula  on  the  false  rumour  that  she  was  there.  I 
scowled  upon  them  with  disfavour,  and  a  massy,  blue 
thunder-head  rose  majestically  from  behind  the  elm- 
trees  of  Sumtner  Barton  Rectory,  arched  over  and 
scowled  with  me.  Then  I  realised  that  it  was  not  bees 
nor  locusts  that  had  darkened  the  skies,  but  the  on- 
coming of  the  malignant  English  thunderstorm — the 
one  thing  before  which  even  Deborah  the  bee  cannot 
express  her  silly  little  self. 

*Aha!  Now  you'll  catch  it,'  I  said,  as  the  herald 
gusts  set  the  big  drum  rolling  down  the  street  like  a 
box-kite.  Up  and  up  yearned  the  dark  cloud,  till  the 
first  lightning  quivered  and  cut.  Deborah  cowered. 
Where  she  flew,  there  she  fled;  where  she  was,  there  she 
sat  still;  and  the  solid  rain  closed  in  on  her  as  a  book  that 
is  closed  when  the  chapter  is  finished.  By  the  time  it 
had  soaked  to  my  second  rug,  Penfentenyou  appeared 
at  the  window,  wiping  his  false  mouth  on  a  nap- 
kin. 

'Are  you  all  right.'"  he  inquired.  *Then  thafs  all 
right!  Mrs.  Bellamy  says  that  her  bees  don't  sting  in 
the  wet.  You'd  better  fetch  Lingnam  over.  He's  got 
to  pay  for  them  and  the  bicycle.' 

I  had  no  words  which  the  silver-haired  lady  could 
listen  to,  but  paddled  across  the  flooded  street  between 
flashes  to  the  pond  on  the  green.  Mr.  Lingnam, 
scarcely  visible  through  the  sheeting  downpour,  trotted 


4cx>         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

round  the  edge.  He  bore  himself  nobly,  and  lied  at 
the  mere  sight  of  me. 

'Isn't  this  wet?*  he  cried.  *It  has  drenched  me  to 
the  skin.     I  shall  need  a  change.' 

*Come  along/  I  said.  'I  don't  know  what  you'll 
get,  but  you  deserve  more.' 

Penfentenyou,  dry,  fed,  and  in  command,  let  us  in. 
*You,'  he  whispered  to  me,  *are  to  wait  in  the  scullery. 
Mrs.  Bellamy  didn't  like  the  way  you  talked  about  her 
bees.  Hsh!  Hsh!  She's  a  kind-hearted  lady.  She's 
a  widow,  Lingnam,  but  she's  kept  his  clothes,  and  as 
soon  as  you've  paid  for  the  damage  she'll  rent  you  a  suit. 
I've  arranged  it  all!' 

*Then  tell  him  he  mustn't  undress  in  my  hall/  said  a 
voice  from  the  stair-head. 

*Tell  her '  Lingnam  began. 

*Come  and  look  at  the  pretty  suit  I've  chosen,'  Pen- 
fentenyou cooed,  as  one  cajoling  a  maniac. 

I  staggered  out-of-doors  again,  and  fell  into  the 
car,  whose  ever-running  machinery  masked  my  yelps 
and  hiccups.  When  I  raised  my  forehead  from  the 
wheel,  I  saw  that  traffic  through  the  village  had  been 
resumed,  after,  as  my  watch  showed,  one  and  one-half 
hour's  suspension.  There  were  two  limousines,  one 
landau,  one  doctor's  car,  three  touring-cars,  one  patent 
steam-laundry  van,  three  tricars,  one  traction-engine, 
some  motor-cycles,  one  with  a  side-car,  and  one  brewery 
lorry.  It  was  the  allegory  of  my  own  imperturbable 
country,  delayed  for  a  short  time  by  unforeseen  external 
events  but  now  going  about  her  business,  and  I  blessed 


THE  VORTEX  401 

Her  with  tears  in  my  eyes,  even  though  I  knew  She 
looked  upon  me  as  drunk  and  incapable. 

Then  troops  came  over  the  bridge  behind  me — a 
company  of  dripping  wet  Regulars  without  any  expres- 
sion. In  their  rear,  carrying  the  lunch-basket,  marched 
the  Agent-General  and  Holford  the  hired  chauffeur. 

*I  say,'  said  the  Agent-General,  nodding  at  the 
darkened  khaki  backs.  'If  that^s  what  weVe  got  to 
depend  on  in  event  of  war  they're  a  broken  reed.  They 
ran  like  hares — ran  like  hares,  I  tell  you.' 

'And  you?'  I  asked. 

'Oh,  I  just  sauntered  back  over  the  bridge  and 
stopped  the  traffic  that  end.  Then  I  had  lunch.  'Pity 
about  the  beer,  though.  I  say — these  cushions  are 
sopping  wet ! ' 

'I'm  sorry,'  I  said.  *I  haven't  had  time  to  turn 
em. 

*Nor  there  wasn't  any  need  to  'ave  kept  the  engine 
runnin'  all  this  time,'  said  Holford  sternly.  'I'll  'ave 
to  account  for  the  expenditure  of  petrol.  It  exceeds 
the  mileage  indicated,  you  see.' 

'I'm  sorry,'  I  repeated.  After  all,  that  is  the  way  that 
taxpayers  regard  most  crises. 

The  house-door  opened  and  Penfentenyou  and  an- 
other came  out  into  the  now  thinning  rain. 

*Ah!  There  you  both  are!  Here's  Lingnam,'  he 
cried.     'He's  got  a  little  wet.     He's  had  to  change.' 

'We  saw  that.  I  was  too  sore  and  weak  to  begin 
another  laugh,  but  the  Agent-General  crumpled  up 
where  he  stood.     The  late  Mr.  Bellamy  must  have  been 


402         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

a  man  of  tremendous  personality,  which  he  had  im- 
pressed on  every  angle  of  his  garments.  I  was  told 
later  that  he  had  died  in  delirium  tremens,  which  at 
once  explained  the  pattern,  and  the  reason  why  Mr. 
Lingnam,  writhing  inside  it,  swore  so  inspiredly.  Of 
the  deliberate  and  diffuse  Federationist  there  remained 
no  trace,  save  the  binoculars  and  two  damp  whiskers. 
We  stood  on  the  pavement,  before  Elemental  Man  call- 
ing on  Elemental  Powers  to  condemn  and  incinerate 
Creation. 

'Well,  hadn't  we  better  be  getting  back?'  said  the 
Agent-General. 

*Look  out!'  I  remarked  casually.  'Those  bonnet- 
boxes  are  full  of  bees  still!' 

*Are  they?'  said  the  livid  Mr.  Lingnam,  and  tilted 
them  over  with  the  late  Mr.  Bellamy's  large  boots. 
Deborah  rolled  out  in  drenched  lumps  into  the  swilling 
gutter.  There  was  a  muffled  shriek  at  the  window 
where  Mrs.  Bellamy  gesticulated. 

*It's  all  right.  I've  paid  for  them,'  said  Mr.  Ling- 
nam. He  dumped  out  the  last  dregs  like  mould  from  a 
pot-bound  flower-pot. 

*  What  ?  Are  you  going  to  take  'em  home  with  you  ? ' 
said  the  Agent-General. 

*No!'  He  passed  a  wet  hand  over  his  streaky  fore- 
head. 'Wasn't  there  a  bicycle  that  was  the  beginning 
of  this  trouble?'  said  he. 

'It's  under  the  fore-axle,  sir,'  said  Holford  promptly. 
'I  can  fish  it  out  from  'ere.' 

'Not  till  I've  done  with  it,  please.'     Before  we  could 


THE  VORTEX  403 

stop  him,  he  had  jumped  into  the  car  and  taken  charge. 
The  hireling  leaped  into  her  collar,  surged,  shrieked 
(less  loudly  than  Mrs.  Bellamy  at  the  window),  and 
swept  on.  That  which  came  out  behind  her  was,  as 
Holford  truly  observed,  no  joy-wheel.  Mr.  Lingnam 
swung  round  the  big  drum  in  the  market-place  and 
thundered  back,  shouting:  'Leave  it  alone.  It's  my 
meat!' 

*  Mince-meat,  *e  means,'  said  Holford  after  this  second 
trituration.  *You  couldn't  say  now  it  'ad  ever  been 
one,  could  you?' 

Mrs.  Bellamy  opened  the  window  and  spoke.  It 
appears  she  had  only  charged  for  damage  to  the  bicycle, 
not  for  the  entire  machine  which  Mr.  Lingnam  was 
ruthlessly  gleaning,  spoke  by  spoke,  from  the  highway 
and  cramming  into  the  slack  of  the  hood.  At  last 
he  answered,  and  I  have  never  seen  a  man  foam  at  the 
mouth  before.  *If  you  don't  stop,  I  shall  come  into 
your  house — in  this  car — and  drive  upstairs  and — 
kill  you!' 

She  stopped;  he  stopped.  Holford  took  the  wheel, 
and  we  got  away.  It  was  time,  for  the  sun  shone  after 
the  storm,  and  Deborah  beneath  the  tiles  and  the  eaves 
already  felt  its  reviving  influence  compel  her  to  her 
interrupted  labours  of  federation.  We  warned  the 
village  policeman  at  the  far  end  of  the  street  that  he 
might  have  to  suspend  traffic  again.  The  proprietor 
of  the  giddy-go-round,  swings,  and  cocoanut-shies 
wanted  to  know  from  whom,  in  this  world  or  another, 
he  could  recover  damages.     Mr.  Lingnam  referred  him 


404         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

most  directly  to  Mrs.  Bellamy.  .  .  .  Then  w( 
went  home. 

After  dinner  that  evening  Mr.  Lingnam  rose  stiffly 
in  his  place  to  make  a  few  remarks  on  the  Federation  oi 
the  Empire  on  the  lines  of  Co-ordinated,  Offensive 
Operations,  backed  by  the  Entire  Effective  Forces, 
Moral,  Military,  and  Fiscal,  of  Permanently  Mobilised 
Communities,  the  whole  brought  to  bear,  without  any 
respect  to  the  merits  of  any  casus  belliy  instantaneously, 
automatically,  and  remorselessly  at  the  first  faint  buzz 
of  war. 

'The  trouble  with  Us,'  said  he,  *is  that  We  take  such 
an  infernally  long  time  making  sure  that  We  are  right 
that  We  don't  go  ahead  when  things  happen.  For 
instance,  I  ought  to  have  gone  ahead  instead  of  pulling 
up  when  I  hit  that  bicycle.' 

*But  you  were  in  the  wrong,  Lingnam,  when  you 
turned  to  the  right,'  I  put  in. 

*I  don't  want  to  hear  any  more  of  your  damned, 
detached,  mugwumping  excuses  for  the  other  fellow,'  he 
snapped. 

*Now  you're  beginning  to  see  things,'  said  Penfenten- 
you.  *I  hope  you  won't  backsHde  when  the  swellings 
go  down.' 


f  THE  SONG  OF  SEVEN  CITIES 

I  was  Lord  of  Cities  very  sumptuously  builded. 
Seven  roaring  Cities  paid  me  tribute  from  afar. 
Ivory  their  outposts  were — the  guardrooms  of  them 

gilded. 
And  garrisoned  with  Amazons  invincible  in  war. 

All  the  world  went  softly  when  it  walked  before  my 

Cities — 

Neither  King  nor  Army  vexed  my  peoples  at  their  toil. 
Never  horse  nor  chariot  irked  or  overbore  my  Cities, 
Never  Mob  nor  Ruler  questioned  whence  they  drew 

their  spoil. 

Banded,  mailed  and  arrogant  from  sunrise  unto  sunset. 
Singing  while  they  sacked  it,  they  possessed  the  land 

at  large. 
Yet  when  men  would  rob  them,  they  resisted,  they 

made  onset 
And  pierced  the  smoke  of  battle  with  a  thousand-sabred 

charge! 

So  they  warred  and  trafficked  only  yesterday,  my  Cities. 
To-day  there  is  no  mark  or  mound  of  where  my  Cities 
stood. 

40s 


4o6         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

For  the  River  rose  at  midnight  and  it  washed  away  m^ 

Cities. 
They  are  evened  with  Atlantis  and  the  towns  before  the 

Flood. 

Rain  on  rain-gorged  channels  raised  the  water-leveh 

,  round  them, 
Freshet   backed  on   freshet  swelled   and   swept  theii 

world  from  sight, 
Till  the  emboldened  floods  linked  arms  and  flashing 

forward  drowned  them — 
Drowned  my  Seven  Cities  and  their  peoples  in  on( 

night ! 

Low  among  the  alders  lie  their  derelict  foundations, 

The  beams  wherein  they  trusted  and  the  plinths  where- 
on they  built — 

My  rulers  and  their  treasure  and  their  unborn  popula- 
tions. 

Dead,  destroyed,  aborted,  and  defiled  with  mud  and 
silt! 

The  Daughters  of  the  Palace  whom  they  cherished  in 

my  Cities, 
My  silver-tongued  Princesses,  and  the  promise  of  their 

May— 
Their  bridegrooms  of  the  June-tide — all  have  perished 

in  my  Cities, 
With  the  harsh  envenomed  virgins  that  can  neither 

love  nor  play. 


THE  SONG  OF  SEVEN  CITIES         407 

I  was  Lord  of  Cities — I  will  build  anew  my  Cities, 
Seven,  set  on  rocks,  above  the  wrath  of  any  flood. 
Nor  will  I  rest  from  search  till  I  have  filled  anew  my 

Cities 
With  peoples  undefeated  of  the  dark,  enduring  blood. 

To  the  sound  of  trumpets  shall  their  seed  restore  my 

Cities. 
Wealthy  and  well-weaponed,  that  once  more  may  I 

behold 
All  the  world  go  softly  when  it  walks  before  my  Cities, 
And  the  horses  and  the  chariots  fleeing  from  them  as  of 

old! 


'Swept  and  Garnished* 

(January  191 5) 

When  the  first  waves  of  feverish  cold  stole  over  Frau 
Ebermann  she  very  wisely  telephoned  for  the  doctor 
and  went  to  bed.  He  diagnosed  the  attack  as  mild 
influenza,  prescribed  the  appropriate  remedies,  and  left 
her  to  the  care  of  her  one  servant  in  her  comfortable 
Bedin  flat.  Frau  Ebermann  benearh  the  thick  cover- 
let, curled  up  with  what  patience  she  could  until  the 
aspirin  should  begin  to  act,  and  Anna  should  come  back 
from  the  chemist  with  the  formamint,  the  ammoniated 
quinine,  the  eucalyptus,  and  the  little  tin  steam-inhaler. 
Meantime,  every  bone  in  her  body  ached;  her  head 
throbbed;  her  hot,  dry  hands  would  not  stay  the  same 
size  for  a  minute  together;  and  her  body,  tucked  into 
the  smallest  possible  compass,  shrank  from  the  chill  of 
the  well-warmed  sheets. 

Of  a  sudden  she  noticed  that  an  imitation-lace  cover 
which  should  have  lain  mathematically  square  with  the 
imitation-marble  top  of  the  radiator  behind  the  green 
plush  sofa  had  slipped  away  so  that  one  corner  hung 
over  the  bronze-painted  steam  pipes.  She  recalled 
that  she  must  have  rested  her  poor  head  against  the 
radiator-top  while  she  was  taking  off  her  boots.  She 
tried  to  get  up  and  set  the  thing  straight,  but  the  radia- 

409 


4IO         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

tor  at  once  receded  toward  the  horizon,  which,  unlike 
true  horizons,  slanted  diagonally,  exactly  parallel  with 
the  dropped  lace  edge  of  the  cover.  Frau  Ebermann 
groaned  through  sticky  lips  and  lay  still. 

'Certainly,  I  have  a  temperature,'  she  said.  *  Cer- 
tainly, I  have  a  grave  temperature.  I  should  have 
been  warned  by  that  chill  after  dinner.' 

She  resolved  to  shut  her  hot-Hdded  eyes,  but  opened 
them  in  a  little  while  to  torture  herself  with  the  knowl- 
edge of  that  ungeometrical  thing  against  the  far  wall. 
Then  she  saw  a  child — an  untidy,  thin-faced  little  girl 
of  about  ten,  who  must  have  strayed  in  from  the  ad- 
joining flat.  This  proved — Frau  Ebermann  groaned 
again  at  the  way  the  world  falls  to  bits  when  one  is  sick 
— proved  that  Anna  had  forgotten  to  shut  the  outer 
door  of  the  flat  when  she  went  to  the  chemist.  Frau 
Ebermann  had  had  children  of  her  own,  but  they  were 
all  grown  up  now,  and  she  had  never  been  a  child- 
lover  in  any  sense.  Yet  the  intruder  might  be  made 
to  serve  her  scheme  of  things. 

'Make — put,'  she  muttered  thickly,  'that  white  thing 
straight  on  the  top  of  that  yellow  thing.' 

The  child  paid  no  attention,  but  moved  about  the 
room,  investigating  everything  that  came  in  her  way — 
the  yellow  cut-glass  handles  of  the  chest  of  drawers, 
the  stamped  bronze  hook  to  hold  back  the  heavy  puce 
curtains,  and  the  mauve  enamel.  New  Art  finger-plates 
on  the  door.     Frau  Ebermann  watched  indignantly. 

*Aie!  That  is  bad  and  rude.  Go  away!'  she  cried, 
though  it  hurt  her  to  raise  her  voice.     'Go  away  by 


'SWEPT  AND  GARNISHED'  411 

the  road  you  came!'  The  child  passed  behind  the  bed- 
foot,  where  she  could  not  see  her.  *Shut  the  door  as 
you  go.  I  will  speak  to  Anna,  but — first,  put  that 
white  thing  straight.' 

She  closed  her  eyes  in  misery  of  body  and  soul.  The 
outer  door  clicked,  and  Anna  entered,  very  penitent 
that  she  had  stayed  so  long  at  the  chemist's.  But  it 
had  been  difficult  to  find  the  proper  type  of  inhaler, 
and 

'Where  did  the  child  go?'  moaned  Frau  Ebermann — 
'the  child  that  was  here?' 

'There  was  no  child,'  said  startled  Anna.  'How 
should  any  child  come  in  when  I  shut  the  door  behind 
me  after  I  go  out  ?  All  the  keys  of  the  flats  are  differ- 
ent.' 

'No,  no!  You  forgot  this  time.  But  my  back  is 
aching,  and  up  my  legs  also.  Besides,  who  knows 
what  it  may  have  fingered  and  upset  ?     Look  and  see.' 

'Nothing  is  fingered,  nothing  is  upset,'  Anna  replied, 
as  she  took  the  inhaler  from  its  paper  box. 

'Yes,  there  is.  Now  I  remember  all  about  it.  Put — 
put  that  white  thing,  with  the  open  edge — the  lace,  I 

mean — quite  straight  on  that '  she  pointed.     Anna, 

accustomed  to  her  ways,  understood  and  went  to  it. 

'Now,  is  it  quite  straight?'  Frau  Ebermann  de- 
manded. 

'Perfectly,'  said  Anna.  'In  fact,  in  the  very  centre 
of  the  radiator.'  Anna  measured  the  equal  margins 
with  her  knuckle,  as  she  had  been  told  to  do  when  she 
first  took  service. 


412         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*And  my  tortoise-shell  hair  brushes?'  Frau  Ebermann 
could  not  command  her  dressing-table  from  where  she 
lay. 

'Perfectly  straight,  side  by  side  in  the  big  tray,  and 
the  comb  laid  across  them.  Your  watch  also  in  the 
coralline  watch-holder.  Everything' — she  moved 
round  the  room  to  make  sure — *  everything  is  as  you 
have  it  when  you  are  well.'  Frau  Ebermann  sighed 
with  relief.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  room  and  her 
head  had  suddenly  grown  cooler. 

*Good!'  said  she.  'Now  warm  my  nightgown  in  the 
kitchen,  so  it  will  be  ready  when  I  have  perspired. 
And  the  towels  also.  Make  the  inhaler  steam,  and 
put  in  the  eucalyptus;  that  is  good  for  the  larynx. 
Then  sit  you  in  the  kitchen,  and  come  when  I  ring. 
But,  first,  my  hot-water  bottle.' 

It  was  brought  and  scientifically  tucked  in. 

*What  news?'  said  Frau  Ebermann  drowsily.  She 
had  not  been  out  that  day. 

'Another  victory,'  said  Anna.  'Many  more  pris- 
oners and  guns.' 

Frau  Ebermann  purred,  one  might  almost  say 
grunted,  contentedly. 

'That  is  good  too,'  she  said;  and  Anna,  after  lighting 
the  inhaler-lamp,  went  out. 

Frau  Ebermann  reflected  that  in  an  hour  or  so  the 
aspirin  would  begin  to  work,  and  all  would  be  well. 
To-morrow — no,  the  day  after — she  would  take  up  life 
with  something  to  talk  over  with  her  friends  at  coffee. 
It  was  rare — every  one  knew  it — that  she  should  be 


'SWEPT  AND  GARNISHED'  413 

overcome  by  any  ailment.  Yet  in  all  her  distresses 
she  had  not  allowed  the  minutest  deviation  from  daily 
routine  and  ritual.  She  would  tell  her  friends — she  ran 
over  their  names  one  by  one — exactly  what  measures  she 
had  taken  against  the  lace  cover  on  the  radiator-top 
and  in  regard  to  her  two  tortoise-shell  hair  brushes  and 
the  comb  at  right  angles.  How  she  had  set  everything 
in  order — everything  in  order.  She  roved  further  afield 
as  she  wriggled  her  toes  luxuriously  on  the  hot-water 
bottle.  If  it  pleased  our  dear  God  to  take  her  to  Him- 
self, and  she  was  not  so  young  as  she  had  been — there 
was  that  plate  of  the  four  lower  ones  in  the  blue  tooth- 
glass,  for  instance — He  should  find  all  her  belongings 
fit  to  meet  His  eye.  *  Swept  and  garnished'  were  the 
words  that  shaped  themselves  in  her  intent  brain. 
*  Swept  and  garnished  for ' 

No,  it  was  certainly  not  for  the  dear  Lord  that  she 
had  swept;  she  would  have  her  room  swept  out  to- 
morrow or  the  day  after,  and  garnished.  Her  hands 
began  to  swell  again  into  huge  pillows  of  nothingness. 
Then  they  shrank,  and  so  did  her  head,  to  minute  dots. 
It  occurred  to  her  that  she  was  waiting  for  some  event, 
some  tremendously  important  event,  to  come  to  pass. 
She  lay  with  shut  eyes  for  a  long  time  till  her  head  and 
hands  should  return  to  their  proper  size. 

She  opened  her  eyes  with  a  jerk. 

*How  stupid  of  me,'  she  said  aloud,  'to  set  the  room 
in  order  for  a  parcel  of  dirty  little  children!' 

They  were  there — five  of  them,  two  little  boys  and 
three  girls — headed  by  the  anxious-eyed  ten-year-old 


414         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

whom  she  had  seen  before.  They  must  have  entered 
by  the  outer  door,  which  Anna  had  neglected  to  shut 
behind  her  when  she  returned  with  the  inhaler.  She 
counted  them  backward  and  forward  as  one  counts 
scales — one,  two,  three,  four,  five. 

They  took  no  notice  of  her,  but  hung  about,  first  on 
one  foot  then  on  the  other,  like  strayed  chickens,  the 
smaller  ones  holding  by  the  larger.  They  had  the  air 
of  utterly  wearied  passengers  in  a  railway  waiting-room, 
and  their  clothes  were  disgracefully  dirty. 

*Go  away!*  cried  Frau  Ebermann  at  last,  after  she 
had  struggled,  it  seemed  to  her,  for  years  to  shape  the 
words. 

*You  called?'  said  Anna  at  the  living-room  door. 

*No,'  said  her  mistress.  'Did  you  shut  the  flat  door 
when  you  came  in  ? ' 

'Assuredly,'  said  Anna.  'Besides,  it  is  made  to 
catch  shut  of  itself.' 

'Then  go  away,'  said  she,  very  little  above  a  whisper. 
If  Anna  pretended  not  to  see  the  children,  she  would 
speak  to  Anna  later  on. 

'And  now,'  she  said,  turning  toward  them  as  soon 
as  the  door  closed.  The  smallest  of  the  crowd  smiled 
at  her,  and  shook  his  head  before  he  buried  it  in  his 
sister's  skirts. 

'Why — don't — ^you — go — away?'  she  whispered  earn- 
estly. • 

Again  they  took  no  notice,  but,  guided  by  the  elder 
girl,  set  themselves  to  climb,  boots  and  all,  on  to  the 
green  plush  sofa  in  front  of  the  radiator.     The  little 


'SWEPT  AND  GARNISHED'  415 

boys  had  to  be  pushed,  as  they  could  not  compass  the 
stretch  unaided.  They  settled  themselves  in  a  row, 
with  small  gasps  of  relief,  and  pawed  the  plush  approv- 
ingly. 

*I  ask  you — I  ask  you  why  do  you  not  go  away — 
why  do  you  not  go  away?'  Frau  Ebermann  found  her- 
self repeating  the  question  twenty  times.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  everything  in  the  world  hung  on  the  answer. 
*  You  know  you  should  not  come  into  houses  and  rooms 
unless  you  are  invited.  Not  houses  and  bedrooms,  you 
know.' 

*No,'  a  solemn  little  six-year-old  repeated,  *not 
houses  nor  bedrooms,  nor  dining-rooms,  nor  churches, 
nor  all  those  places.     Shouldn't  come  in.     It's  rude.' 

*Yes,  he  said  so,'  the  younger  girl  put  in  proudly. 
*He  said  it.  He  told  them  only  pigs  would  do  that.' 
The  Hne  nodded  and  dimpled  one  to  another  with  little 
explosive  giggles,  such  as  children  use  when  they  tell 
deeds  of  great  daring  against  their  elders. 

*If  you  know  it  is  wrong,  that  makes  it  much  worse,' 
said  Frau  Ebermann. 

*0h  yes;  much  worse,'  they  assented  cheerfully,  till 
the  smallest  boy  changed  his  smile  to  a  baby  wail  of 
weariness. 

*When  will  they  come  for  us?'  he  asked,  and  the  girl 
at  the  head  of  the  row  hauled  him  bodily  into  her  square 
little  capable  lap. 

'He's  tired,'  she  explained.  *He  is  only  four.  He 
only  had  his  first  breeches  this  spring.'  They  came 
almost  under  his  armpits,  and  were  held  up  by  broad 


4i6         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

linen  braces,  which,  his  sorrow  diverted  for  the  moment, 
he  patted  proudly. 

*Yes,  beautiful,  dear,'  said  both  girls. 

'Go  away!'  said  Frau  Ebermann.  *Go  home  to 
your  father  and  mother!* 

Their  faces  grew  grave  at  once. 

*H'sh!  We  carCt^^  whispered  the  eldest.  'There 
isn't  anything  left.* 

'AH  gone,'  a  boy  echoed,  and  he  puffed  through 
pursed  lips.     ' Like  ^A<a^,  uncle  told  me.     Both  cows  too.' 

'And  my  own  three  ducks,'  the  boy  on  the  girl's  lap 
said  sleepily. 

'So,  you  see,  we  came  here.'  The  elder  girl  leaned 
forward  a  little,  caressing  the  child  she  rocked. 

*I — I  don't  understand,'  said  Frau  Ebermann  'Are 
you  lost,  then  ?     You  must  tell  our  police.' 

*0h  no;  we  are  only  waiting.' 

'But  what  are  you  waiting /or.?' 

'We  are  waiting  for  our  people  to  come  for  us.  They 
told  us  to  come  here  and  wait  for  them.  So  we  are 
waiting  till  they  come,'  the  eldest  girl  replied. 

'Yes.  We  are  waiting  till  our  people  come  for  us,' 
said  all  the  others  in  chorus. 

'But,'  said  Frau  Ebermann  very  patiently — 'but 
now  tell  me,  for  I  tell  you  that  I  am  not  in  the  least 
angry,  where  do  you  come  from  ?  Where  do  you  come 
from?' 

The  five  gave  the  names  of  two  villages  of  which  she 
had  read  in  the  papers. 

'That  is  silly,'  said  Frau  Ebermann.     'The  people 


'SWEPT  AND  GARNISHED'  417 

fired  on  us,  and  they  were  punished.  Those  places  are 
wiped  out,  stamped  flat/ 

*Yes,  yes,  wiped  out,  stamped  flat.  That  is  why 
and — I  have  lost  the  ribbon  off"  my  pigtail,'  said  the 
younger  girl.     She  looked  behind  her  over  the  sofa-back. 

*It  is  not  here,'  said  the  elder.  'It  was  lost  before. 
Don't  you  remember  ? ' 

*Now,  if  you  are  lost,  you  must  go  and  tell  our 
police.  They  will  take  care  of  you  and  give  you  food,' 
said  Frau  Ebermann.  *Anna  will  show  you  the  way 
there.' 

*No,' — this  was  the  six-year-old  with  the  smile, — 
*we  must  wait  here  till  our  people  come  for  us.  Mustn't 
we,  sister.?' 

*0f  course.  We  wait  here  till  our  people  come  for  us. 
All  the  world  knows  that,'  said  the  eldest  girl. 

*  Yes.'  The  boy  in  her  lap  had  waked  again.  'Little 
children,  too — as  little  as  Henri,  and  he  doesn't  wear 
trousers  yet.     As  little  as  all  that.' 

*  I  don't  understand,'  said  Frau  Ebermann,  shivering. 
In  spite  of  the  heat  of  the  room  and  the  damp  breath 
of  the  steam-inhaler,  the  aspirin  was  not  doing  its  duty. 

The  girl  raised  her  blue  eyes  and  looked  at  the 
woman  for  an  instant. 

*You  see,'  she  said,  emphasising  her  statements  with 
her  fingers,  *they  told  us  to  wait  here  till  our  people  came 
for  us.  So  we  came.  We  wait  till  our  people  come  for 
us.' 

'That  is  silly  again,'  said  Frau  Ebermann.  'It  is  no 
good  for  you  to  wait  here.     Do  you  know  what  this 


4i8         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

place  is?  You  have  been  to  school?  It  is  Berlin,  the 
capital  of  Germany/ 

*Yes,  yes/  they  all  cried;  *BerHn,  capital  of  Germany. 
We  know  that.     That  is  why  we  came/ 

*So,  you  see,  it  is  no  good,*  she  said  triumphantly, 
'because  your  people  can  never  come  for  you  here/ 

*They  told  us  to  come  here  and  wait  till  our  people 
came  for  us/  They  delivered  this  as  if  it  were  a  lesson 
in  school.  Then  they  sat  still,  their  hands  orderly 
folded  on  their  laps,  smiling  as  sweetly  as  ever. 

*Go  away!    Go  away!*  Frau  Ebermann  shrieked. 

*You  called?'  said  Anna,  entering. 

'No.     Go  away!     Go  away!' 

*Very  good,  old  cat,'  said  the  maid  under  her  breath. 
'Next  time  you  may  call,'  and  she  returned  to  her  friend 
in  the  kitchen. 

*I  ask  you — ask  you,  please  to  go  away,'  Frau  Eber- 
mann pleaded.  *Go  to  my  Anna  through  that  door, 
and  she  will  give  you  cakes  and  sweeties.  It  is  not 
kind  of  you  to  come  into  my  room  and  behave  so 
badly.' 

*  Where  else  shall  we  go  now?'  the  elder  girl  de- 
manded, turning  to  her  little  company.  They  fell 
into  discussion.  One  preferred  the  broad  street  with 
trees,  another  the  railway  station;  but  when  she  sug- 
gested an  Emperor's  palace,  they  agreed  with  her. 

*  We  will  go  then,'  she  said,  and  added  half  apologeti- 
cally to  Frau  Ebermann,  *You  see,  they  are  so  little 
they  like  to  meet  all  the  others.' 

'What  others?'  said  Frau  Ebermann. 


'SWEPT  AND  GARNISHED'  419 

*The  others — hundreds  and  hundreds  and  thousands 
and  thousands  of  the  others.' 

'That  is  a  He.  There  cannot  be  a  hundred  even, 
much  less  a  thousand,'  cried  Frau  Ebermann. 

*So?'  said  the  girl  politely. 

*Yes.  /  tell  you;  and  I  have  very  good  information. 
I  know  how  it  happened.  You  should  have  been  more 
careful.  You  should  not  have  run  out  to  see  the  horses 
and  guns  passing.  That  is  how  it  is  done  when  our 
troops  pass  through.     My  son  has  written  me  so.' 

They  had  clambered  down  from  the  sofa,  and  gathered 
round  the  bed  with  eager,  interested  eyes. 

*  Horses  and  guns  going  by — how  fine!'  some  one 
whispered. 

*  Yes,  yes;  believe  me,  that  is  how  the  accidents  to  the 
children  happen.  You  must  know  yourself  that  it  is 
true.     One  runs  out  to  look ' 

'But  I  never  saw  any  at  all,'  a  boy  cried  sorrowfully. 
'Only  one  noise  I  heard.  That  was  when  Aunt  Em- 
meline's  house  fell  down.' 

*But  listen  to  me.  /  am  telling  you!  One  runs  out 
to  look,  because  one  is  little  and  cannot  see  well.  So 
one  peeps  between  the  man's  legs,  and  then — you  know 
how  close  those  big  horses  and  guns  turn  the  corners — 
then  one's  foot  slips  and  one  gets  run  over.  That's  how 
it  happens.  Several  times  it  had  happened,  but  not 
many  times;  certainly  not  a  hundred,  perhaps  not 
twenty.  So,  you  see,  you  must  be  all.  Tell  me  now 
that  you  are  all  that  there  are,  and  Anna  shall  give  you 
the  cakes.' 


420         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Thousands/  a  boy  repeated  monotonously.  *The 
we  all  come  here  to  wait  till  our  people  come  for  us/ 

*  But  now  we  will  go  away  from  here.  The  poor  lad; 
is  tired/  said  the  elder  girl,  plucking  his  sleeve. 

*0h,  you  hurt,  you  hurt!'  he  cried,  and  burst  int( 
tears. 

'What  is  that  for.?'  said  Frau  Ebermann.  'To  cr 
in  a  room  where  a  poor  lady  is  sick  is  very  inconsiderate. 

*0h,  but  look,  lady!'  said  the  elder  girl. 

Frau  Ebermann  looked  and  saw. 

^Au  revoir,  lady.'  They  made  their  little  smilinj 
bows  and  curtseys  undisturbed  by  her  loud  cries.  *^i 
revoir y  lady.     We  will  wait  till  our  people  come  for  us. 

When  Anna  at  last  ran  in,  she  found  her  mistress  or 
her  knees,  busily  cleaning  the  floor  with  the  lace  cove 
from  the  radiator,  because,  she  explained,  it  was  al 
spotted  with  the  blood  of  five  children — she  was  per 
fectly  certain  there  could  not  be  more  than  five  in  th( 
whole  world — ^who  had  gone  away  for  the  moment,  bui 
were  now  waiting  round  the  corner,  and  Anna  was  tc 
find  them  and  give  them  cakes  to  stop  the  bleeding 
while  her  mistress  swept  and  garnished  that  Our  deai 
Lord  when  He  came  might  find  everything  as  it  should 
be. 


Mary  Postgate 
(1915) 

)f  Miss  Mary  Postgate,  Lady  McCausland  wrote  that 
he  was  'thoroughly  conscientious,  tidy,  companion- 
ble,  and  ladyHke.  I  am  very  sorry  to  part  with  her, 
nd  shall  always  be  interested  in  her  welfare.' 

Miss  Fowler  engaged  her  on  this  recommendation, 
md  to  her  surprise,  for  she  had  had  experience  of  com- 
>anions,  found  that  it  was  true.  Miss  Fowler  was 
learer  sixty  than  fifty  at  the  time,  but  though  she 
leeded  care  she  did  not  exhaust  her  attendant's  vitaHty. 
)n  the  contrary,  she  gave  out,  stimulatingly  and  with 
eminiscences.  Her  father  had  been  a  minor  Court 
►fficial  in  the  days  when  the  Great  Exhibition  of  1851 
lad  just  set  its  seal  on  Civilisation  made  perfect.  Some 
•f  Miss  Fowler's  tales,  none  the  less,  were  not  always 
or  the  young.  Mary  was  not  young,  and  though  her 
peech  was  as  colourless  as  her  eyes  or  her  hair,  she  was 
lever  shocked.  She  Hstened  unflinchingly  to  every  one; 
aid  at  the  end,  *How  interesting!'  or  'How  shocking!' 
s  the  case  might  be,  and  never  again  referred  to  it,  for 
he  prided  herself  on  a  trained  mind,  which  'did  not 
[well  on  these  things.'  She  was,  too,  a  treasure  at 
iomestic  accounts,  for  which  the  village  tradesmen,  with 
heir  weekly  books,  loved  her  not.     Otherwise  she  had 

421 


422         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

no  enemies;  provoked  no  jealousy  even  among  the 
plainest;  neither  gossip  nor  slander  had  ever  been 
traced  to  her;  she  supplied  the  odd  place  at  the  Rector'^ 
or  the  Doctor's  table  at  half  an  hour's  notice;  she  was  a 
sort  of  public  aunt  to  very  many  small  children  of  the 
village  street,  whose  parents,  while  accepting  every- 
thing, would  have  been  swift  to  resent  what  they  called 
'patronage';  she  served  on  the  Village  Nursing  Com- 
mittee as  Miss  Fowler's  nominee  when  Miss  Fowler  was 
crippled  by  rheumatoid  arthritis,  and  came  out  of  six 
months'  fortnightly  meetings  equally  respected  by  all 
the  cHques. 

And  when  Fate  threw  Miss  Fowler's  nephew,  an  un- 
lovely orphan  of  eleven,  on  Miss  Fowler's  hands,  Mary 
Postgate  stood  to  her  share  of  the  business  of  education 
as  practised  in  private  and  public  schools.  She  checked 
printed  clothes-Hsts,  and  unitemised  bills  of  extras; 
wrote  to  Head  and  House  masters,  matrons,  nurses  and 
doctors,  and  grieved  or  rejoiced  over  half-term  reports. 
Young  Wyndham  Fowler  repaid  her  in  his  hoHdays  by 
calling  her  'Gatepost,'  'Postey,'  or  'Packthread,'  by 
thumping  her  between  her  narrow  shoulders,  or  by 
chasing  her  bleating,  round  the  garden,  her  large  mouth 
open,  her  large  nose  high  in  air,  at  a  stiff-necked  shamble 
very  like  a  camel's.  Later  on  he  filled  the  house  with 
clamour,  argument,  and  harangues  as  to  his  personal 
needs,  likes  and  dislikes,  and  the  limitations  of  'you 
women,'  reducing  Mary  to  tears  of  physical  fatigue,  or, 
when  he  chose  to  be  humorous,  of  helpless  laughter. 
At  crises,  which  multiplied  as  he  grew  older,  she  was  his 


MARY  POSTGATE  423 

mbassadress  and  his  interpretress  to  Miss  Fowler, 
ho  had  no  large  sympathy  with  the  young;  a  vote  in 
is  interest  at  the  councils  on  his  future;  his  sewing- 
oman,  strictly  accountable  for  mislaid  boots  and  gar- 
lents;  always  his  butt  and  his  slave. 
And  when  he  decided  to  become  a  solicitor,  and  had 
itered  an  office  in  London;  when  his  greeting  had 
langed  from  *  Hullo,  Postey,  you  old  beast,'  to  'Morn- 
[',  Packthread,'  there  came  a  war  which,  unlike  all 
ars  that  Mary  could  remember,  did  not  stay  decently 
jtside  England  and  in  the  newspapers,  but  intruded  on 
le  lives  of  people  whom  she  knew.  As  she  said  to  Miss 
owler,  it  was  *most  vexatious.'  It  took  the  Rector's 
►n  who  was  going  into  business  with  his  elder  brother; 
took  the  Colonel's  nephew  on  the  eve  of  fruit-farming 
[  Canada;  it  took  Mrs.  Grant's  son  who,  his  mother 
id,  was  devoted  to  the  ministry;  and,  very  early 
deed,  it  took  Wynn  Fowler,  who  announced  on  a  post- 
ird  that  he  had  joined  the  Flying  Corps  and  wanted  a 
irdigan  waistcoat. 

*He  must  go,  and  he  must  have  the  waistcoat,'  said 
[iss  Fowler.  So  Mary  got  the  proper-sized  needles 
id  wool,  while  Miss  Fowler  told  the  men  of  her  es- 
blishment — two  gardeners  and  an  odd  man,  aged 
Kty — that  those  who  could  join  the  Army  had  better 
)  so.  The  gardeners  left.  Cheape,  the  odd  man, 
ayed  on,  and  was  promoted  to  the  gardener's  cottage, 
he  cook,  scorning  to  be  limited  in  luxuries,  also  left, 
ter  a  spirited  scene  with  Miss  Fowler,  and  took  the 
)usemaid   with   her.     Miss   Fowler   gazetted   Nellie, 


424         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Cheapens  seventeen-year-old  daughter,  to  the  vacan 
post;  Mrs.  Cheape  to  the  rank  of  cook,  with  occasion* 
cleaning  bouts;  and  the  reduced  establishment  move 
forward  smoothly. 

Wynn  demanded  an  increase  in  his  allowance.  Mis 
Fowler,  who  always  looked  facts  in  the  face,  said,  *H 
must  have  it.  The  chances  are  he  won't  live  long  t 
draw  it,  and  if  three  hundred  makes  him  happy 

Wynn  was  grateful,  and  came  over,  in  his  tight 
buttoned  uniform,  to  say  so.  His  training  centre  wa 
not  thirty  miles  away,  and  his  talk  was  so  technical  tha 
it  had  to  be  explained  by  charts  of  the  various  types  o 
machines.     He  gave  Mary  such  a  chart. 

'And  you'd  better  study  it,  Postey,'  he  said.  *  You'] 
be  seeing  a  lot  of  'em  soon.'  So  Mary  studied  the  chart 
but  when  Wynn  next  arrived  to  swell  and  exalt  himsel 
before  his  womenfolk,  she  failed  badly  in  cross-examina 
tion,  and  he  rated  her  as  in  the  old  days. 

*  You  look  more  or  less  like  a  human  being,'  he  said  n 
his  new  Service  voice.  'You  must  have  had  a  brain  a 
some  time  in  your  past.  What  have  you  done  with  it 
Where  d'you  keep  it  ?  A  sheep  would  know  more  thar 
you  do,  Postey.  You're  lamentable.  You  are  less  us( 
than  an  empty  tin  can,  you  dowey  old  cassowary.' 

*I  suppose  that's  how  your  superior  officer  talks  t( 
you?*  said  Miss  Fowler  from  her  chair. 

*But  Postey  doesn't  mind,'  Wynn  replied.  *Do  you 
Packthread?' 

*Why?  Was  Wynn  saying  anything?  I  shall  gel 
this   right  next  time  you  come,'   she  muttered,   and 


MARY  POSTGATE  425 

n  nitted  her  pale  brows  again  over  the  diagrams  of 
aTaubes,  Farmans,  and  Zeppelins. 

In  a  few  weeks  the  mere  land  and  sea  battles  which 
he  read  to  Miss  Fowler  after  breakfast  passed  her  like 
die  breath.  Her  heart  and  her  interest  were  high  in 
he  air  with  Wynn,  who  had  finished  *  rolling'  (whatever 
hat  might  be)  and  had  gone  on  from  a  'taxi'  to  a  ma- 
hine  more  or  less  his  own.  One  morning  it  circled  over 
heir  very  chimneys,  alighted  on  Vegg's  Heath,  almost 
)utside  the  garden  gate,  and  Wynn  came  in,  blue  with 
:old,  shouting  for  food.  He  and  she  drew  Miss  Fowler's 
)ath-chair,  as  they  had  often  done,  along  the  Heath 
Foot-path  to  look  at  the  biplane.  Mary  observed  that 
it  smelt  very  badly.' 

'Postey,  I  beheve  you  think  with  your  nose,'  said 
W^ynn.  *I  know  you  don't  with  your  mind.  Now, 
nYirZ  type's  that?' 

*ril  go  and  get  the  chart,'  said  Mary. 

'You're  hopeless!  You  haven't  the  mental  capacity 
jf  a  white  mouse,'  he  cried,  and  explained  the  dials  and 
^he  sockets  for  bomb-dropping  till  it  was  time  to  mount 
and  ride  the  wet  clouds  once  more. 

*Ah!'  said  Mary,  as  the  stinking  thing  flared  upward. 
Wait  till  our  Flying  Corps  gets  to  work!  Wynn  says 
t's  much  safer  than  in  the  trenches.' 

*I  wonder,'  said  Miss  Fowler.  *Tell  Cheape  to  come 
md  tow  me  home  again.' 

'It's  all  downhill.  I  can  do  it,'  said  Mary,  'if  you 
)ut  the  brake  on.'  She  laid  her  lean  self  against  the 
3ushing-bar  and  home  they  trundled. 


426         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

'Now,  be  careful  you  aren't  heated  and  catch  a  chill/ 
said  overdressed  Miss  Fowler. 

*  Nothing  makes  me  perspire/  said  Mary.  As  she 
bumped  the  chair  under  the  porch  she  straightened  her 
long  back.  The  exertion  had  given  her  a  colour,  and  the 
wind  had  loosened  a  wisp  of  hair  across  her  forehead. 
Miss  Fowler  glanced  at  her. 

*What  do  you  ever  think  of,  Mary?'  she  demanded 
suddenly. 

*0h,  Wynn  says  he  wants  another  three  pairs  of 
stockings — as  thick  as  we  can  make  them.' 

*Yes.  But  I  mean  the  things  that  women  think 
about.     Here  you  are,  more  than  forty ' 

'Forty-four,'  said  truthful  Mary. 

'Well?' 

'Well?'  Mary  offered  Miss  Fowler  her  shoulder  as 
usual. 

'And  you've  been  with  me  ten  years  now.' 

'Let's  see,'  said  Mary.  'Wynn  was  eleven  when  he 
came.  He's  twenty  now,  and  I  came  two  years  before 
that.     It  must  be  eleven.' 

'Eleven!  And  you've  never  told  me  anything  that 
matters  in  all  that  while.  Looking  back,  it  seems  to  me 
that  /'ve  done  all  the  talking.' 

'I'm  afraid  I'm  not  much  of  a  conversationalist.  As 
Wynn  says,  I  haven't  the  mind.     Let  me  take  your  hat.' 

Miss  Fowler,  moving  stiffly  from  the  hip,  stamped  her 
rubber-tipped  stick  on  the  tiled  hall  floor.  'Mary, 
aren't  you  anything  except  a  companion?  Would  you 
ever  have  been  anything  except  a  companion  ? ' 


MARY  POSTGATE  427 

Mary  hung  up  the  garden  hat  on  its  proper  peg. 
No/  she  said  after  consideration.  *I  don't  imagine  I 
ever  should.     But  IVe  no  imagination,  Vm  afraid.' 

She  fetched  Miss  Fowler  her  eleven-o'clock  glass  of 
Contrexeville. 

That  was  the  wet  December  when  it  rained  six  inches 
to  the  month,  and  the  women  went  abroad  as  little  as 
might  be.  Wynn's  flying  chariot  visited  them  several 
times,  and  for  two  mornings  (he  had  warned  her  by 
postcard)  Mary  heard  the  thresh  of  his  propellers  at 
dawn.  The  second  time  she  ran  to  the  window,  and 
stared  at  the  whitening  sky.  A  little  blur  passed  over- 
lead.     She  lifted  her  lean  arms  towards  it. 

That  evening  at  six  o'clock  there  came  an  announce- 
ment in  an  oflacial  envelope  that  Second  Lieutenant  W. 
Fowler  had  been  killed  during  a  trial  flight.  Death  was 
instantaneous.  She  read  it  and  carried  it  to  Miss 
Fowler. 

*I  never  expected  anything  else,'  said  Miss  Fowler; 
*but  I'm  sorry  it  happened  before  he  had  done:anything.' 

The  room  was  whirling  round  Mary  Postgate,  but 
she  found  herself  quite  steady  in  the  midst  of  it. 

'Yes,'  she  said.  'It's  a  great  pity  he  didn't  die  in 
action  after  he  had  killed  somebody.' 

*He  was  killed  instantly.  That's  one  comfort,'  Miss 
Fowler  went  on. 

*But  Wynn  says  the  shock  of  a  fall  kills  a  man  at 
once — ^whatever  happens  to  the  tanks,'  quoted  Mary. 

The  room  was  coming  to  rest  now.  She  heard  Miss 
Fowler  say  impatiently,  *But  why  can't  we  cry,  Mary?' 


428         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

and  herself  replying,  *There*s  nothing  to  cry  for.  He 
has  done  his  duty  as  much  as  Mrs.  Grant's  son  did.' 

*And  when  he  died,  she  came  and  cried  all  the  morn- 
ing,' said  Miss  Fowler.  'This  only  makes  me  feel  tired — 
terribly  tired.  Will  you  help  me  to  bed,  please,  Mary? 
• — ^And  I  think  I'd  Hke  the  hot-water  bottle.' 

So  Mary  helped  her  and  sat  beside,  talking  of  Wynn 
in  his  riotous  youth. 

*I  believe,'  said  Miss  Fowler  suddenly,  'that  old 
people  and  young  people  slip  from  under  a  stroke  Hke 
this.     The  middle-aged  feel  it  most.' 

*I  expect  that's  true,'  said  Mary,  rising.  'I'm  going 
to  put  away  the  things  in  his  room  now.  Shall  we  wear 
mourning  ? ' 

'Certainly  not,'  said  Miss  Fowler.  'Except,  of 
course,  at  the  funeral.  I  can't  go.  You  will.  I  want 
you  to  arrange  about  his  being  buried  here.  What  a 
blessing  it  didn't  happen  at  Salisbury!' 

Every  one,  from  the  Authorities  of  the  Flying  Corps 
to  the  Rector,  was  most  kind  and  sympathetic.  Mary 
found  herself  for  the  moment  in  a  world  where  bodies 
were  in  the  habit  of  being  despatched  by  all  sorts  of 
conveyances  to  all  sorts  of  places.  And  at  the  funeral 
two  young  men  in  buttoned-up  uniforms  stood  beside 
the  grave  and  spoke  to  her  afterwards. 

'You're  Miss  Postgate,  aren't  you?'  said  one. 
*  Fowler  told  me  about  you.  He  was  a  good  chap — a 
first-class  fellow — a  great  loss.' 

'Great  loss!'  growled  his  companion.  'We're  all 
awfully  sorry.' 


MARY  POSTGATE  429 

'How  high  did  he  fall  from?'  Mary  whispered. 

*  Pretty  nearly  four  thousand  feet,  I  should  think, 
didn't  he?     You  were  up  that  day,  Monkey?' 

*  All  of  that,'  the  other  child  replied.  *My  bar  made 
three  thousand,  and  I  wasn't  as  high  as  him  by  a 
lot.' 

*Then  that's  all  right,'  said  Mary.  'Thank  you  very 
much.' 

They  moved  away  as  Mrs.  Grant  flung  herself  weep- 
ing on  Mary's  flat  chest,  under  the  lych-gate,  and  cried, 
*  /  know  how  it  feels !     /  know  how  it  feels ! ' 

'But  both  his  parents  are  dead,'  Mary  returned,  as 
she  fended  her  off.  'Perhaps  they've  all  met  by  now,' 
she  added  vaguely  as  she  escaped  towards  the  coach. 

'I've  thought  of  that  too,'  wailed  Mrs.  Grant;  'but 
then  he'll  be  practically  a  stranger  to  them.  Quite 
embarrassing!' 

Mary  faithfully  reported  every  detail  of  the  ceremony 
to  Miss  Fowler,  who,  when  she  described  Mrs.  Grant's 
outburst,  laughed  aloud. 

*0h,  how  Wynn  would  have  enjoyed  it!  He  was 
always  utterly  unreliable  at  funerals.  D'you  re- 
member  '     And  they  talked  of  him    again,  each 

piecing  out  the  other's  gaps.  'And  now,'  said  Miss 
Fowler,  'we'll  pull  up  the  blinds  and  we'll  have  a 
general  tidy.  That  always  does  us  good.  Have  you 
seen  to  Wynn's  things  ? ' 

'Everything — since  he  first  came,'  said  Mary.  'He 
was  never  destructive — even  with  his  toys.' 

They  faced  that  neat  room. 


430         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*It  can't  be  natural  not  to  cry,'  Mary  said  at  last. 
Tm  so  afraid  you'll  have  a  reaction/ 

*As  I  told  you,  we  old  people  slip  from  under  the 
stroke.     It's  you  I'm  afraid  for.     Have  you  cried  yet?' 

*  I  can't.     It  only  makes  me  angry  with  the  Germans.' 
'That's  sheer  waste  of  vitality,'  said  Miss  Fowler. 

*  We  must  live  till  the  war's  finished.'  She  opened  a  full 
wardrobe.  *Now,  I've  been  thinking  things  over.  This 
is  my  plan.  All  his  civilian  clothes  can  be  given  away 
— Belgian  refugees,  and  so  on.' 

Mary  nodded.     *  Boots,  collars,  and  gloves?' 
*Yes.     We  don't  need  to  keep  anything  except  his 
cap  and  belt.' 

'They  came  back  yesterday  with  his  Flying  Corps 
clothes' — Mary  pointed  to  a  roll  on  the  little  iron  bed. 

*  Ah,  but  keep  -his  Service  things.  Some  one  may  be 
glad  of  them  later.     Do  you  remember  his  sizes?' 

'Five  feet  eight  and  a  half;  thirty-six  inches  round  the 
chest.  But  he  told  me  he's  just  put  on  an  inch  and  a 
half.  I'll  mark  it  on  a  label  and  tie  it  on  his  sleeping- 
bag.' 

*So  that  disposes  of  that,'  said  Miss  Fowler,  tapping 
the  palm  of  one  hand  with  the  ringed  third  finger  of  the 
other.  'What  waste  it  all  is!  We'll  get  his  old  school 
trunk  to-morrow  and  pack  his  civiUan  clothes.' 

'And  the  rest?'  said  Mary.  'His  books  and  pictures 
and  the  games  and  the  toys — and — and  the  rest?' 

'My  plan  is  to  burn  every  single  thing,'  said  Miss 
Fowler.  'Then  we  shall  know  where  they  are  and  no 
one  can  handle  them  afterwards.     What  do  vou  think?' 


MARY  POSTGATE  43 1 

*I  think  that  would  be  much  the  best,'  said  Mary. 
*But  there's  such  a  lot  of  them.' 

'We'll  burn  them  in  the  destructor,'  said  Miss  Fowler. 

This  was  an  open-air  furnace  for  the  consumption  of 
refuse;  a  little  circular  four-foot  tower  of  pierced  brick 
over  an  iron  grating.  Miss  Fowler  had  noticed  the 
design  in  a  gardening  journal  years  ago,  and  had  had  it 
built  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden.  It  suited  her  tidy 
soul,  for  it  saved  unsightly  rubbish-heaps,  and  the  ashes 
lightened  the  stiff  clay  soil. 

Mary  considered  for  a  moment,  saw  her  way  clear, 
and  nodded  again.  The^  spent  the  evening  putting 
away  well-remembered  civilian  suits,  underclothes  that 
Mary  had  marked,  and  the  regiments  of  very  gaudy 
socks  and  ties.  A  second  trunk  was  needed,  and,  after 
that,  a  little  packing-case,  and  it  was  late  next  day 
when  Cheape  and  the  local  carrier  lifted  them  to  the 
cart.  The  Rector  luckily  knew  of  a  friend's  son,  about 
five  feet  eight  and  a  half  inches  high,  to  whom  a  com- 
plete Flying  Corps  outfit  would  be  most  acceptable,  and 
sent  his  gardener's  son  down  with  a  barrow  to  take 
delivery  of  it.  The  cap  was  hung  up  in  Miss  Fowler's 
bedroom,  the  belt  in  Miss  Postgate's;  for,  as  Miss  Fowler 
said,  they  had  no  desire  to  make  tea-party  talk  of  them. 

'That  disposes  of  that,'  said  Miss  Fowler.  'I'll  leave 
the  rest  to  you,  Mary.  I  can't  run  up  and  down  the 
garden.  You'd  better  take  the  big  clothes-basket  and 
get  Nellie  to  help  you.' 

*I  shall  take  the  wheel-barrow  and  do  it  myself,'  said 
Mary,  and  for  once  in  her  life  closed  her  mouth. 


432         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

Miss  Fowler,  in  moments  of  irritation,  had  called 
Mary  deadly  methodical.  She  put  on  her  oldest  water- 
proof and  gardening-hat  and  her  ever-slipping  goloshes, 
for  the  weather  was  on  the  edge  of  more  rain.  She 
gathered  fire-lighters  from  the  kitchen,  a  half-scuttle  of 
coals,  and  a  faggot  of  brushwood.  These  she  wheeled 
in  the  barrow  down  the  mossed  paths  to  the  dank  little 
laurel  shrubbery  where  the  destructor  stood  under  the 
drip  of  three  oaks.  She  cHmbed  the  wire  fence  into 
the  Rector's  glebe  just  behind,  and  from  his  tenant's 
rick  pulled  two  large  armfuls  of  good  hay,  which  she 
spread  neatly  on  the  fire-bars.  Next,  journey  by  jour- 
ney, passing  Miss  Fowler's  white  face  at  the  morning- 
room  window  each  time,  she  brought  down  in  the  towel- 
covered  clothes-basket,  on  the  wheel-barrow,  thumbed 
and  used  Hentys,  Marry ats.  Levers,  Stevensons,  Bar- 
oness Orczys,  Garvices,  schoolbooks,  and  atlases, 
unrelated  piles  of  the  Motor  Cyclist,  the  Light  Car,  and 
catalogues  of  Olympia  Exhibitions;  the  remnants  of  a 
fleet  of  sailing-ships  from  ninepenny  cutters  to  a 
three-guinea  yacht;  a  prep.-school  dressing-gown;  bats 
from  three-and-sixpence  to  twenty-four  shillings;  cricket 
and  tennis  balls;  disintegrated  steam  and  clockwork 
locomotives  with  their  twisted  rails;  a  grey  and  red  tin 
model  of  a  submarine;  a  dumb  gramophone  and  cracked 
records;  golf-clubs  that  had  to  be  broken  across  the  knee, 
like  his  walking-sticks,  and  an  assegai;  photographs  of 
private  and  pubHc  school  cricket  and  football  elevens, 
and  his  O.T.C.  on  the  line  of  march;  kodaks,  and  film- 
rolls;  some  pewters,  and  one  real  silver  cup,  for  boxing 


MARY  POSTGATE  433 

competitions  and  Junior  Hurdles;  sheaves  of  school 
photographs;  Miss  Fowler's  photograph;  her  own  which 
he  had  borne  off  in  fun  and  (good  care  she  took  not  to 
ask!)  had  never  returned;  a  play  box  with  a  secret 
drawer;  a  load  of  flannels,  belts,  and  jerseys,  and  a  pair 
of  spiked  shoes  unearthed  in  the  attic;  a  packet  of  all 
the  letters  that  Miss  Fowler  and  she  had  ever  written 
to  him,  kept  for  some  absurd  reason  through  all  these 
years;  a  five-day  attempt  at  a  diary;  framed  pictures  of 
racing  motors  in  full  Brooklands  career,  and  load  upon 
load  of  undistinguishable  wreckage  of  tool-boxes, 
rabbit-hutches,  electric  batteries,  tin  soldiers,  fret-saw 
outfits,  and  jig-saw  puzzles. 

Miss  Fowler  at  the  window  watched  her  come  and  go, 
and  said  to  herself,  *  Mary's  an  old  woman.  I  never 
realised  it  before.' 

After  lunch  she  recommended  her  to  rest. 

Tm  not  in  the  least  tired,'  said  Mary.  'I've  got  it 
all  arranged.  I'm  going  to  the  village  at  two  o'clock  for 
some  paraffin.  NeUie  hasn't  enough,  and  the  walk  will 
do  me  good.' 

She  made  one  last  quest  round  the  house  before  she 
started,  and  found  that  she  had  overlooked  nothing. 
It  began  to  mist  as  soon  as  she  had  skirted  Vegg's 
Heath,  where  Wynn  used  to  descend — it  seemed  to  her 
that  she  could  almost  hear  the  beat  of  his  propellers 
overhead,  but  there  was  nothing  to  see.  She  hoisted 
her  umbrella  and  lunged  into  the  blind  wet  till  she  had 
reached  the  shelter  of  the  empty  village.  As  she  came 
out  of  Mr.  Kidd's  shop  with  a  bottle  full  of  parafliin  in 


434         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

her  string  shopping-bag,  she  met  Nurse  Eden,  the  vil- 
lage nurse,  and  fell  into  talk  with  her,  as  usual,  about 
the  village  children.  They  were  just  parting  opposite 
the  'Royal  Oak,'  when  a  gun,  they  fancied,  was  fired 
immediately  behind  the  house.  It  was  followed  by  a 
child's  shriek  dying  into  a  wail. 

*  Accident!'  said  Nurse  Eden  promptly,  and  dashed 
through  the  empty  bar,  followed  by  Mary.  They 
found  Mrs.  Gerritt,  the  publican's  wife,  who  could  only 
gasp  and  point  to  the  yard,  where  a  little  cart-lodge 
was  sliding  sideways  amid  a  clatter  of  tiles.  Nurse 
Eden  snatched  up  a  sheet  drying  before  the  fire,  ran 
out,  lifted  something  from  the  ground,  and  flung  the 
sheet  round  it.  The  sheet  turned  scarlet  and  half  her 
uniform  too,  as  she  bore  the  load  into  the  kitchen.  It 
was  little  Edna  Gerritt,  aged  nine,  whom  Mary  had 
known  since  her  perambulator  days. 

'Am  I  hurted  bad?'  Edna  asked,  and  died  between 
Nurse  Eden's  dripping  hands.  The  sheet  fell  aside  and 
for  an  instant,  before  she  could  shut  her  eyes,  Mary 
saw  the  ripped  and  shredded  body. 

'It's  a  wonder  she  spoke  at  all,'  said  Nurse  Eden. 
'What  in  God's  name  was  it?' 

'A  bomb,'  said  Mary. 

'One  o'  the  Zeppelins?' 

'No.  An  aeroplane.  I  thought  I  heard  it  on  the 
Heath,  but  I  fancied  it  was  one  of  ours.  It  must  have 
shut  ofF  its  engines  as  it  came  down.  That's  why  we 
didn't  notice  it.' 

'The  filthy  pigs!'  said  Nurse  Eden,  all  white  and 


MARY  POSTGATE  435 

shaken.  'See  the  pickle  Fm  in!  Go  and  tell  Dr. 
Hennis,  Miss  Postgate.'  Nurse  looked  at  the  mother, 
who  had  dropped  face  down  on  the  floor.  'She's  only 
in  a  fit.     Turn  her  over.' 

Mary  heaved  Mrs.  Gerritt  right  side  up,  and  hurried 
oflF  for  the  doctor.  When  she  told  her  tale,  he  asked 
her  to  sit  down  in  the  surgery  till  he  got  her  something. 

'But  I  don't  need  it,  I  assure  you,'  said  she.  'I  don't 
think  it  would  be  wise  to  tell  Miss  Fowler  about  it,  do 
you?     Her  heart  is  so  irritable  in  this  weather.' 

Dr.  Hennis  looked  at  her  admiringly  as  he  packed  up 
his  bag. 

'No.  Don't  tell  anybody  till  we're  sure,'  he  said, 
and  hastened  to  the  '  Royal  Oak,'  while  Mary  went  on 
with  the  paraffin.  The  village  behind  her  was  as  quiet 
as  usual,  for  the  news  had  not  yet  spread.  She  frowned 
a  little  to  herself,  her  large  nostrils  expanded  ugHly, 
and  from  time  to  time  she  muttered  a  phrase  which 
Wynn,  who  never  restrained  himself  before  his  women- 
folk, had  applied  to  the  enemy.  '  Bloody  pagans !  They 
are  bloody  pagans.  But,'  she  continued,  falling  back 
on  the  teaching  that  had  made  her  what  she  was,  'one 
mustn't  let  one's  mind  dwell  on  these  things.' 

Before  she  reached  the  house  Dr.  Hennis,  who  was 
also  a  special  constable,  overtook  her  in  his  car. 

'Oh,  Miss  Postgate,'  he  said,  'I  wanted  to  tell  you 
that  that  accident  at  the  "Royal  Oak"  was  due  to 
Gerritt's  stable  tumbling  down.  It's  been  dangerous 
for  a  long  time.     It  ought  to  have  been  condemned.' 

*I  thought  I  heard  an  explosion  too,'  said  Mary, 


436         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  You  might  have  been  misled  by  the  beams  snapping. 
Tve  been  looking  at  'em.  They  were  dry-rotted 
through  and  through.  Of  course,  as  they  broke,  they 
would  make  a  noise  just  like  a  gun.' 

*Yes?'  said  Mary  politely. 

*Poor  little  Edna  was  playing  underneath  it,'  he  went 
on,  still  holding  her  with  his  eyes,  *and  that  and  the 
tiles  cut  her  to  pieces,  you  see  ^ ' 

*I  saw  it,'  said  Mary,  shaking  her  head.  *I  heard  it 
too.' 

*WelI,  we  cannot  be  sure.'  Dr.  Hennis  changed  his 
tone  completely.  *I  know  both  you  and  Nurse  Eden 
(I've  been  speaking  to  her)  are  perfectly  trustworthy, 
and  I  can  rely  on  you  not  to  say  anything — yet  at  least. 
It  is  no  good  to  stir  up  people  unless ' 

*0h,  I  never  do — anyhow,'  said  Mary,  and  Dr. 
Hennis  went  on  to  the  county  town. 

After  all,  she  told  herself,  it  might,  just  possibly, 
have  been  the  collapse  of  the  old  stable  that  had  done 
all  those  things  to  poor  Httle  Edna.  She  was  sorry 
she  had  even  hinted  at  other  things,  but  Nurse  Eden 
was  discretion  itself.  By  the  time  she  reached  home 
the  affair  seemed  increasingly  remote  by  its  very  mon- 
strosity. As  she  came  in.  Miss  Fowler  told  her  that  a 
couple  of  aeroplanes  had  passed  half  an  hour  ago. 

*I  thought  I  heard  them,'  she  repHed,  'I'm  going 
down  to  the  garden  now.     I've  got  the  paraffin.' 

*  Yes,  but — ^what  have  you  got  on  your  boots  ?  They're 
soaking  wet.     Change  them  at  once.' 

Not  only  did  Mary  obey  but  she  wrapped  the  boots 


MARY  POSTGATE  437 

in  a  newspaper,  and  put  them  into  the  string  bag  with 
the  bottle.  So,  armed  with  the  longest  kitchen  poker, 
she  left. 

*It's  raining  again,'  was  Miss  Fowler's  last  word, 
*but — I  know  you  won't  be  happy  till  that's  disposed 
of.' 

*It  won't  take  long.  I've  got  everything  down  there, 
and  I've  put  the  lid  on  the  destructor  to  keep  the  wet 
out.' 

The  shrubbery  was  filling  with  twilight  by  the  time 
she  had  completed  her  arrangements  and  sprinkled  the 
sacrificial  oil.  As  she  lit  the  match  that  would  burn 
her  heart  to  ashes,  she  heard  a  groan  or  a  grunt  behind 
the  dense  Portugal  laurels. 

*Cheape?'  she  called  impatiently,  but  Cheape,  with 
his  ancient  lumbago,  in  his  comfortable  cottage  would 
be  the  last  man  to  profane  the  sanctuary.  *  Sheep,'  she 
concluded,  and  threw  in  the  fusee.  The  pyre  went  up 
in  a  roar,  and  the  immediate  flame  hastened  night 
around  her. 

*How  Wynn  would  have  loved  this!'  she  thought, 
stepping  back  from  the  blaze. 

By  its  light  she  saw,  half  hidden  behind  a  laurel  not 
five  paces  away,  a  bareheaded  man  sitting  very  stiffly 
at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  oaks.  A  broken  branch  lay 
across  his  lap — one  booted  leg  protruding  from  beneath 
it.  His  head  moved  ceaselessly  from  side  to  side,  but 
his  body  was  as  still  as  the  tree's  trunk.  He  was 
dressed — she  moved  sideways  to  look  more  closely — in  a 
uniform  something  like  Wynn's,  with  a  flap  buttoned 


438         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

across  the  chest.  For  an  instant,  she  had  some  idea 
that  it  might  be  one  of  the  young  flying  men  she  had 
met  at  the  funeral.  But  their  heads  were  dark  and 
glossy.  This  man's  was  as  pale  as  a  baby's,  and  so 
closely  cropped  that  she  could  see  the  disgusting  pinky 
skin  beneath.     His  lips  moved. 

*What  do  you  say?'  Mary  moved  towards  him  and 
stooped. 

'Latyl  Laty!  Laty!'  he  muttered,  while  his  hands 
picked  at  the  dead  wet  leaves.  There  was  no  doubt  as 
to  his  nationality.  It  made  her  so  angry  that  she  strode 
back  to  the  destructor,  though  it  was  still  too  hot  to  use 
the  poker  there.  Wynn's  books  seemed  to  be  catching 
well.  She  looked  up  at  the  oak  behind  the  man;  several 
of  the  light  upper  and  two  or  three  rotten  lower  branches 
had  broken  and  scattered  their  rubbish  on  the  shrubbery 
path.  On  the  lowest  fork  a  helmet  with  dependent 
strings,  showed  like  a  bird's-nest  in  the  light  of  a  long- 
tongued  flame.  Evidently  this  person  had  fallen 
through  the  tree.  Wynn  had  told  her  that  it  was  quite 
possible  for  people  to  fall  out  of  aeroplanes.  Wynn  told 
her  too,  that  trees  were  useful  things  to  break  an  avia- 
tor's fall,  but  in  this  case  the  aviator  must  have  been 
broken  or  he  would  have  moved  from  his  queer  position. 
He  seemed  helpless  except  for  his  horrible  rolling  head. 
On  the  other  hand,  she  could  see  a  pistol  case  at  his  belt 
— and  Mary  loathed  pistols.  Months  ago,  after  read- 
ing certain  Belgian  reports  together,  she  and  Miss 
Fowler  had  had  dealings  with  one — a  huge  revolver  with 
flat-nosed  bullets,  which  latter,  Wynn  said,  were  for- 


MARY  POSTGATE  439 

bidden  by  the  rules  of  war  to  be  used  against  civilised 
enemies.  'They're  good  enough  for  us/  Miss  Fowler 
had  replied.  'Show  Mary  how  it  works.'  And  Wynn, 
laughing  at  the  mere  possibility  of  any  such  need,  had 
led  the  craven  winking  Mary  into  the  Rector's  disused 
quarry,  and  had  shown  her  how  to  fire  the  terrible  ma- 
chine. It  lay  now  in  the  top-left-hand  drawer  of  her 
toilet-table — a  memento  not  included  in  the  burning. 
Wynn  would  be  pleased  to  see  how  she  was  not  afraid. 

She  sHpped  up  to  the  house  to  get  it.  When  she 
came  through  the  rain,  the  eyes  in  the  head  were  alive 
with  expectation.  The  mouth  even  tried  to  smile. 
But  at  sight  of  the  revolver  its  corners  went  down  just 
like  Edna  Gerritt's.  A  tear  trickled  from  one  eye,  and 
the  head  rolled  from  shoulder  to  shoulder  as  though 
trying  to  point  out  someth  ng. 

'Cassee.     Tout  cassee,'  it  whimpered. 

'What  do  you  say?'  said  Mary  disgustedly,  keeping 
well  to  one  side,  though  only  the  head  moved. 

'Cassee,'  it  repeated.  'Che  me  rends.  Le  medicin! 
Toctor!' 

'Neinl'  said  she,  bringing  all  her  small  German  to 
bear  with  the  big  pistol.  'Ich  haben  der  todt  Kinder 
gesehn.' 

The  head  was  still.  Mary's  hand  dropped.  She  had 
been  careful  to  keep  her  finger  off  the  trigger  for  fear 
of  accidents.  After  a  few  moments'  waiting,  she  re- 
turned to  the  destructor,  where  the  flames  were  falUng, 
and  churned  up  Wynn's  charring  books  with  the  poker. 
Again  the  head  groaned  for  the  doctor. 


440         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

*  Stop  that ! '  said  Mary,  and  stamped  her  foot.  *  Stop 
that,  you  bloody  pagan!' 

The  words  came  quite  smoothly  and  naturally. 
They  were  Wynn's  own  words,  and  Wynn  was  a  gentle- 
man who  for  no  consideration  on  earth  would  have  torn 
little  Edna  into  those  vividly  coloured  strips  and  strings. 
But  this  thing  hunched  under  the  oak-tree  had  done 
that  thing.  It  was  no  question  of  reading  horrors  out 
of  newspapers  to  Miss  Fowler.  Mary  had  seen  it 
with  her  own  eyes  on  the  *  Royal  Oak'  kitchen  table- 
She  must  not  allow  her  mind  to  dwell  upon  it.  Now 
Wynn  was  dead,  and  everything  connected  with  him 
was  lumping  and  rustling  and  tinkling  under  her  busy 
poker  into  red  black  dust  and  grey  leaves  of  ash.  The 
thing  beneath  the  oak  would  die  too.  Mary  had  seen 
death  more  than  once.  She  came  of  a  family  that  had 
a  knack  of  dying  under,  as  she  told  Miss  Fowler,  'most 
distressing  circumstances.'  She  would  stay  where  she 
was  till  she  was  entirely  satisfied  that  It  was  dead — dead 
as  dear  papa  in  the  late  'eighties;  aunt  Mary  in  'eighty- 
nine;  mamma  in  'ninety-one;  cousin  Dick  in  'ninety- 
five;  Lady  McCausland's  housemaid  in  'ninety-nine; 
Lady  McCausland's  sister  in  nineteen  hundred  and  one; 
Wynn  buried  five  days  ago;  and  Edna  Gerritt  still  wait- 
ing for  decent  earth  to  hide  her.  As  she  thought — her 
undedip  caught  up  by  one  faded  canine,  brows  knit 
and  nostrils  wide — she  wielded  the  poker  with  lunges 
that  jarred  the  grating  at  the  bottom,  and  careful 
scrapes  round  the  brick-work  above.  She  looked  at 
her  wrist-watch.     It  was  getting  on  to  half-past  four, 


MARY  POSTGATE  441 

and  the  rain  was  coming  down  in  earnest.  Tea  would 
be  at  five.  If  It  did  not  die  before  that  time,  she  would 
be  soaked  and  would  have  to  change.  Meantime,  and 
this  occupied  her,  Wynn's  things  were  burning  well  in 
spite  of  the  hissing  wet,  though  now  and  again  a  book- 
back  with  a  quite  distinguishable  title  would  be  heaved 
up  out  of  the  mass.  The  exercise  of  stoking  had  given 
her  a  glow  which  seemed  to  reach  to  the  marrow  of  her 
bones.  She  hummed — Mary  never  had  a  voice — ^to 
herself.  She  had  never  believed  in  all  those  advanced 
views — though  Miss  Fowler  herself  leaned  a  little  that 
way — of  woman's  work  in  the  world;  but  now  she  saw 
there  was  much  to  be  said  for  them.  This,  for  instance, 
was  her  work — ^work  which  no  man,  least  of  all  Dr. 
Hennis,  would  ever  have  done.  A  man,  at  such  a  crisis, 
would  be  what  Wynn  called  a  'sportsman';  would  leave 
everything  to  fetch  help,  and  would  certainly  bring  It 
into  the  house.  Now  a  woman's  business  was  to  make 
a  happy  home  for — for  a  husband  and  children.  Fail- 
ing these — it  was  not  a  thing  one  should  allow  one's 
mind  to  dwell  upon — but 

*Stop  it!'  Mary  cried  once  more  across  the  shadows. 
*Nein,  I  tell  you!     Ich  haben  der  todt  Kinder  gesehn.' 

But  it  was  a  fact.  A  woman  who  had  missed  these 
things  could  still  be  useful — more  useful  than  a  man  in 
certain  respects.  She  thumped  like  a  pavior  through 
the  settling  ashes  at  the  secret  thrill  of  it.  The  rain 
was  damping  the  fire,  but  she  could  feel — it  was  too 
dark  to  see — that  her  work  was  done.  There  was  a  dull 
red  glow  at  the  bottom  of  the  destructor,  not  enough  to 


442         A  DIVERSITY  OF  CREATURES 

char  the  wooden  lid  if  she  slipped  it  half  over  against 
the  driving  wet.  This  arranged,  she  leaned  on  the 
poker  and  waited,  while  an  increasing  rapture  laid  hold 
on  her.  She  ceased  to  think.  She  gave  herself  up  to 
feel.  Her  long  pleasure  was  broken  by  a  sound  that 
she  had  waited  for  in  agony  several  times  in  her  life. 
She  leaned  forward  and  listened,  smiling.  There  could 
be  no  mistake.  She  closed  her  eyes  and  drank  it  in. 
Once  it  ceased  abruptly. 

'Go  on,'  she  murmured,  half  aloud.  *That  isn't  the 
end.' 

Then  the  end  came  very  distinctly  in  a  lull  between 
two  rain-gusts.  Mary  Postgate  drew  her  breath  short 
between  her  teeth  and  shivered  from  head  to  foot. 
*  Thafs  all  right,'  said  she  contentedly,  and  went  up  to 
the  house,  where  she  scandalised  the  whole  routine  by 
taking  a  luxurious  hot  bath  before  tea,  and  came  down 
looking,  as  Miss  Fowler  said  when  she  saw  her  lying  all 
relaxed  on  the  other  sofa,  'quite  handsome!' 


THE  BEGINNINGS 

It  was  not  part  of  their  blood, 

It  came  to  them  very  late 
With  long  arrears  to  make  good, 

When  the  English  began  to  hate. 

They  were  not  easily  moved, 
They  were  icy  willing  to  wait 

Till  every  count  should  be  proved, 
Ere  the  English  began  to  hate. 

Their  voices  were  even  and  low. 
Their  eyes  were  level  and  straight. 

There  was  neither  sign  nor  show. 
When  the  EngHsh  began  to  hate. 

It  was  not  preached  to  the  crowd. 
It  was  not  taught  by  the  State. 

No  man  spoke  it  aloud, 

When  the  English  began  to  hate. 

It  was  not  suddenly  bred, 
It  will  not  swiftly  abate, 

Through  the  chill  years  ahead, 

When  Time  shall  count  from  the  date 
That  the  English  began  to  hate. 
443 


THE  COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


